The Grebe and the Cat

Upon an autumn’s trail I’ve found
two odd, in strange acquaintance,
a cat and grebe paired face to face
relaxed and in repose,
comparing notes of season’s change
and summer’s last remittance,
conversing deep in subtle tones,
two friends here, I suppose.

The cat an elderly tabby,
scarred from years of living wild,
the grebe with strong appointed brow,
yet mannerisms mild.

Upon my frozen stance they stared,
me in my surprise,
how could man’s wisdom dare compare
to such a meeting wise.

They did not move, but simple gesture
requested I not barge in,
with nod and smile I backed me up
till quietly the two conversed again.

Now could it be in autumn’s magic
my ears and eyes deceived?
as quietly I stood and stared,
their conversation I perceived.

The cat recited Aesop’s story
of the crane and wolf and a bone so stuck,
that from the depth of the wolf’s keen jowls
the crane reached in and the bone did pluck.

The cat went on to warn the grebe
that nature’s law shall be upheld,
and so the wolf might eat the crane
while in his beak the bone he held.

The grebe shook his head and exclaimed,
“Above nature’s law few friendships made,
but you and I are one exception!”,
and so sat down in the autumn shade.

I stood in distant disbelief,
how could a friendship as this endure?
The cat, wild and cantankerous
would love to eat the grebe, for sure.

But there they sat in kind repose,
enjoying autumn’s calming prize,
so I returned upon my path,
with knowledge gained of friendship wise.