You’re pacing
a circuitous route
from living room
through kitchen,
pausing each time to pass
to stare meaningfully at me
as I ignore your
four feet. You’ve been fed,
you’ve been out.
I don’t have time for the fussing.
I have work to do.
Curl up, rest your head on my feet.
We can pick up the pace
together, tomorrow.
Shawn L. Bird 