Cat.

Drifting in the land of slumber,
Contentedly unconscious,
And then woken.
Aware of all.
Even the ethereal cannot hide.
There, just there, on that wall,
That is what has woken us.
We see it.
Speck, spot, smudge.
It does not hide from our keen eyes,
Which are once more closed,
And we are asleep.