after the rain I stepped out

for a walk on a quiet night

a gray cat called out and I turned

as she rushed forward from shadows

beneath the street library shelter

cats like books, I think

especially piles of them in corners

or open on your lap as you read aloud

my boots were muddy and wet

the cat wound herself round and round

my legs meowing with yearning

her coat was warm and slick

I spoke with her in low whispers

then curiosity distracted me

I paused cat stroking to straighten

open the door for a brief look

at the four rows of new and old books

while the cat mewed and slipped away again

I will not linger nor will I regret and yet

as I walked on my thoughts wandered

and I do admit

not one book spine in that wee library

gifted me anything like connection

like the trust of the small cat wet and crying

on a quiet night after the rain🪶