The brilliant white morning light
Through the clear sliding doors nearby,
Wince slightly as it comes, releasing a vexed huff.
It is probably about 5:15 AM;
My dull ears can clearly hear the younger child of the house
Growling to herself –
I can’t quite understand the words.
Instinctively, I whine plaintively,
pawing at the time-worn metal cage.
Like Pavlov’s famed dog, I am driven
By my conditioning
To supplicate for freedom the moment I hear life in the house.
I can’t tolerate the
of my owners’ home for much longer, and my food bowl is,
out of reach.
By 6:27, they have finally released me
To relieve myself.
I am elated
To be able to experience the agglomeration of colors
That the outside world brings.
In their world of monochrome, I see
An infinite medley of hues, and I