To the mewing at my kitchen door
I open up and let come in
From a night of showers and wind-roar
The old familiar one
At a late-early hour.
Whiskers, wild dark eyes, and purr!
O she is mad with affection
As the caught stars of Atlantic droplets glint
In the night earth-heaven of black fur;
And now is a good weight in my arms,
A damp paw on my neck's hot skin:
Vision of random otherness comes,
And it complements this glare within;
So something in me gently yields
As I am touched by this untouched,
And printed by wide night-fields.