Again and again through the day
 I meet a cat.
 In the tree's shade, in the sun, in the crowding brown leaves.
 After the success of a few fish bones
 Or inside a skeleton of white earth
 I find it, as absorbed in the purring
 Of its heart as a bee.
 Still it sharpens its claws on the gulmohar tree
 And follows the sun all day long.

 Now I see it and then it is gone,
 Losing itself somewhere.
 On the autumn evening I have watched it play,
 Stroking the soft body of the saffron sun
 With a white paw. Then it caught
 The darkness in paws like small balls
 And scattered it all over the earth.