Poem: Cat Bath

She always tries
to look her best--
she washes east,
she washes west,
she washes north,
she washes south
with the washcloth
in her mouth.

And then, without
a sign of rush,
she makes her tongue
a comb and brush
to groom her fur
or, should she choose,
to smooth the velvet
of her shooes.


by Aileen Fisher