She glides like an animate shadow
Miniature spirit of frictionless grace
Eyes shed bemused warmth
Her art, mischief
Her motion-
Regal

At night her mood waxes regal
She comes, light as shadow
We sleep without motion
In midnight grace
No mischief-
Warmth

Haunting sunbeams and vents for warmth
Every lazy moment tiger-regal
(yes, even in mischief)
Liquid, languid shadow
Smooth grace-
Motion

She hides cunning in that motion
Causing trouble brings her warmth
Without impairing her grace.
Ever slyly regal,
Seeking shadow-
Mischief

Immune to the consequences of mischief
She lives in Brownian motion
Drifting shadow to shadow
Seeking random warmth
Inevitably regal-
Grace

Surely, flesh poorly explains her grace
She's a spirit of mischief
In countenance most regal
Ingredients: Perpetual motion,
Curiosity, Warmth,
Shadow.

Half-born of old shadow, consort of true mischief;
Her lithe stalking grace and clean inhuman motion
Fill my house with warmth at once so dark and regal.

Scott Lynch, January 2001

Notes: The Sestina is a very difficult form that I enjoy as only a very poor poet can. This is my second, but you can't see my first, since it's a romantic poem solely for the eyes of the woman I love. Fear not- you're missing little.

Each line of each stanza contains one less word than the one above it. I have no idea what this device is called, if any reputable poets have deigned to name it. The fact that the envoy scans as trochaic sextameter is more of an apology on my part to the spirits of poetry than a way of showing off.

I can't yet say whether or not this is doggerel (catterel?). I'm poorly equipped to judge the value of my own poetry. If you have a thought, fling it at me.

3 a.m., paws on back

kittens tumble in soft breezes
(the Mischief Winds)
to alight on tired islands

Scott Lynch, July 1999