To hate the cat’s indifference
with its knowing mien or alleged sacredness,
is to despise the sparrow that innocently shat
upon your shiny new shoes
As well we should curse
the rain laden cloud
for the dampening of our day
Does the recovering blade
of trodden grass cast
tiny aspersions in our wake?
Does the fly, mid-flee, plan its
retribution past lethally intended swat?
No life, save man, can conceive
Malice beyond playful mischief
Even the tawny lion, claws adrip
breath hot upon your crushed throat,
would bear you no ill regard
though you sate its hunger.
Be it mewling kitten or mauling bear
all walk a path girded by instinct
yet free of mal intent or evil deed
a purity of being more worthy
of praise than loathing
The bad animal, deserving of our hate
like the bad baby
exists in equal measure
Hate is ours alone to bear,
ours alone to embrace
or misplace
Oh, to be merely indifferent
with a nose raised in mock disdain
and a haughty twitch of tail
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