Should this morning poem appear Disorganized and blurred; Disparage not the maker please, For how this has occurred. For I was typing at my post As everyday I do; Stirring the ingredients Of our self-storage stew. To my right a cat appeared To bask in morning light; And to my left, another cat Hell-bent to first cat fight. A gentle nudge, he with his paw, Into the first cat’s face; And from the sunlight basking cat Was pushed to a new place. Not amused by what occurred The first cat stood and growled; The second cat, dismissive he, Closed his eyes and scowled. First cat leapt across the keys Upon which I had typed, And landed on the scowling cat Who growled and hissed and griped. Things got ugly fast and sure, And items flew and fell; Telephones and books and pens As I began to yell. Obedience is not a suit A feline wears too well; Together they ignored my calls In hopes their fight to quell. The stapler fell upon my foot, The scissors to the floor; Then they tumbled off the desk Then quickly through the door. Up the stairs I heard them go, Another venue called; Somewhere to an ante-room Their discord they had hauled. And so it was, this morning poem In birth founds its delay; Though backed against the wall was I, I hope that it’s okay.