Stretched in the sunlight
crowning Calypso’s shore
the big cat dozed,
small blue crabs drown
in a capsized silver urn, cream
filled and slopping beside him.
Why long for plump
tuna steak and cheesecake
crumbs when Apollo
scratches behind your ears
and no storm clouds
threaten tender olive saplings
with shaking? That
rural, stone hearth
plucked from the heart
of the hill your paws pounded
daily is miles away.
Waves lick gingerly
against the pebbly shore
the lambent royal blue of
Penelope’s summer dress.
He is still listless as
he is lifted up by
roughened driftwood hands
and tossed back into the sea.
