Boxed In

Nose on the sill, breath fogs the glass,
Ears perked high as the buses pass.
One paw twitching, tail a low beat,
He guards the world from forty feet.

A kid with gum, a breeze, a bird—
Each gets a growl, a snort, a word.
The street below, a stage, a game—
But none can match his window frame.

Still he watches, wise and bold—
A quiet king, four years old.