Night visitors

Now that summer is here, we tend to keep the house closed up all day, to keep the sun out. After dark, though, I like to open the windows wide to let the cool air circulate. That means I am a lot more aware of the noises of the different animals during the night.

cats on the verandah
When we used to feed the cats on the verandah, the food trays would occasionally be left out overnight. They were always empty in the morning.

I came across this old draft in my notebook the other day. I should probably add it to my pile of ‘drafts to be dealt with’ as I’m interested in how the repetition works although I’m not particularly happy with the line breaks. I wonder if they succeed in helping the reader to the sort of short, heavily-paused phrasing that I had in mind.
 

Night visitors

I think, perhaps, it wasn’t a cat
who ate the catfood
left overnight on the verandah.

The milk-trail paw prints 

across terracotta were more 

tiggywinkle than tom. I was woken 

by two types of jay and other 

corvids squabbling; perhaps they
ate the catfood left overnight
on the verandah.
The plates were empty,
drying in the sunshine
and the cats were crying 

to be fed. When kibble rattled
onto melamine, a tiny lizard fled.
Maybe his family were
the early risers who ate 

the catfood left overnight
on the verandah.

 

cats sleeping

Author: don't confuse the narrator

Exploring the boundary between writer and narrator through first person poetry, prose and opinion

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