Hard Up Early

Early
and hardly up
with the light and
the clatter of the  
cat beating on the blind
to try and see outside.
Birds, squirrels, then someone
starting a loud car — must be
the red van two doors down,
know that rattle and growl
by heart by now, it has taken
all spring to get this loud
and now it’s distinctive as
any robin’s liquid call.
I don’t blame the cat
for being a cat when it’s
this busy this early.
She’s trying to tell me
some creature surely
ought to care
about the bustle,
it’s too much for dawn
to contain, and 
who can say
what will fall apart
if such vibrancy
goes on unnoticed?
She has a point, 
so I feed her.  
As she eats,
collar clinking
on the plate,
I sit by the window —
she’s right, oh
how right.