Morning Scene

Five animals sleep in my living room this morning -- four unperturbed kittens and a small mole.  
Two kittens lie cuddling together in the laundry basket which is turned on its side.  Two others 
luxuriate on the turquoise cushion of a chair.  The mole lies in three pieces under our breakfast
 table.  His upper half is still intact, but with closed eyes and a tapered nose that no longer finds
 earth in which to burrow.  What is left of the the lower half lies in two neat piles of entrails -- 
 big one and a small one -- just a few inches apart.  He appears to have been a young mole. 
 I did not witness last nights events.  This morning, in any case, the mole is also unperturbed.  

When the mother of the kittens had her first litter, she hid them in the woods.  We never saw any 
of them until one morning she deposited one freshly dead kitten at our door, and then came in
 for her breakfast.  My daughter buried the kitten under a small stone.  We never learned whether
 there were others. 

The four kittens in my living room, the kitten from the first litter, the mole -- all are resting this
 morning, unperturbed.  

Only I am restless -- I, and perhaps the yard where the mother cat is out looking for other gifts.