A Nod in the Dark

I heard you call my name through the dusk. I did not hurry. I stopped at the gap beneath the lowest cedar step, where damp pine needles gather. The scent of turned soil was rich down there. I tapped my front claws against the cool stone edge twice, answering in kind. A dry moth fluttered past my nose; I held my footing until it drifted up into the porch light. It is quiet out here tonight. I am right here, taking in the dark.