Our daily catbird in the parking lot, Half-unknowing his danger where he stood, Sang out eyes-shut atop a cinder block. A blue abandoned Cougar, its purr removed, (Haunted all last night by a pregnant stray Hunkering into home in her birthing mood) Had a dead crow's feathers like an exploded toy Puffed from under a moveless wheel hoved tight, Feeding what must come, at most, in a day. Obliquely by her belly kept from being quite upright, In cotton fog half-obscuring our shared world, The mottled cat sat motionless on one stripe. The catbird's territory song searched vacant grounds That should have had a wood to sing through, Not learned to be inured to all our sounds. I wondered how I'd feel with the catbird shooed, Mother-cat nursing uncurled by the curb, Patched kittens purling dust just where he flew. Silent in the silence man-made things disturb, The cat, too quick for me to see, pounced once,-- And the catbird, leapt to asphalt eaves, sang on.