Monday Muses

The black cat pads slowly down the alley. Its dark shadow seems lighter in color that the creature's thick, heavy pelt. The cat seems groomed, though it's counterpart is not. Its coat sleek, shiny, not a hair out of place. Her walk also seems somewhat aristocratic, she in good health condition, not limping, but striding forward boldly, with purpose. She looks to absorb and devour all distrustful glances sent her way. Her tail swishes softly, sweeping away all loud fall leaves. A turn into a cold corner, and she is gone. Gone like the last orange wisp of summer, come like the hint of ebony white winter snow. A soft jump into warmth clad fingers, a gentle breath mixed in with a purr. She has become her. She looks on at her frostbitten fingertips and murmurs at the fallen shadows. And just like that she has come and gone.

Inspired by the poem Black Cat by Rainer Maria Rilke