On My Walk, Antony Johae

I saw them in Castle Gardens,
dog chasing a cat as though it were a hare,
cat run like a fox hunted by hounds;
she jumped to mount a fence, fell back,
did not know the pursuer found it fun,
hissed at him and scratched.
The dog bit back; cat screeched,
then away she ran.

I saw a swan from the Colne river bank
trying to cross a weed-green weir,
her cob waiting in the tidal water below.
The pen found a footing, heaved up her weight,
poised for a moment on the threshold
and fell, wings flapping, to the hard ledge beneath.
I thought she was hurt, but when I returned at dusk
she had swum away with her mate.