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prose poem

My daughter is the cat whisperer. She sees cats in need where ever they may be. She once saw a kitten thrown from a pickup truck in the middle of a thunder storm in a busy store parking lot. We were 250 feet away and she suddenly screamed “Is that…is that a kitten?” and took off running. Sure enough, it was a tiny, wet, three week old, flea riddled kitten. Luckily, that kitten found a home quickly.



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Rhonda Marrone

Poetry and Essay Writer. Be Open Editor. Lover of all things nature. You can most likely find me sitting under a tree ,watching birds, writing poems.