The Philippians 4:6 Cat

A black and white cat rests splayed atop the dusty pavement,
The occasional breeze ruffling his otherwise already disheveled fur.
His mind is on the shaking in the bushes that eavesdropping has brought to his senses:
It may be dinner beckoning or just the naughty wind.
But now he's too contented to move a muscle and too busy being a cat
To fret over a lost rat. So he returns to sleeping,
Fretting over nothing, too busy being a cat.

The Daily Joke

Never a day sighs
Its last breath
Into nothing
When I'm not driven
Onto hard ground,
To wet the floor
Cold with weeping
For fresh vision
Of a heart rancid.
Many a time
Have I wished
A departure
From the taunts of the sun
And moon; they shake
Their heads at me
For each sees the same,
The sun and moon.
They scream,
"Shape up, boy!",
And go their way
Shaking their heads,
"See you tomorrow".