Murray-Attenti Ai Gatti

Attenti Ai Gatti

 The cats of Ravello
 sleep on sunlit patios of terra cotta
 church bells chime
 little girls with long black curls giggle.
  
 The cats of Ravello
 raid alleys of narrow medieval streets
 where white roses cascade ancient stone walls
 and ristorantes serve up sea bass al fresco
 Even their garbage is haute cuisine.
  
 The cats of Ravello sip warm milk
 at palazzos converted to five star hotels
 At the feet of wistful tourists gazing at the indigo sea
 these felines share croissants and steamed milk.
  
 The cats of Positano
 do not climb the vertical cliffs
 to pastel pink and yellow houses
 Feral and wary they dart among fishing boats
 painted bright primary colours.
  
 The cats of Positano 
 lick lemony limoncello,
 munch on tidbits of el mare
 as they escape the encroaching tide.
  
 The cats of Vernazza
 live in a time warp
 They sit straight and tough on Vespas
 bits of ear missing, collar askew.
  
  
  
 The cats of this remote town, a claw on the sea
                            lie on rocks above the cliffs, slide in for a pat
                            as vespers chime at sunset.
  
                            The cats of seaside Italian towns thrive
                            No cars, no cares as church bells float on the wind. 
  
                                      
   

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