If'n you don't like my peaches

you are a black cat stalking along my branches,
utterly sublime in your every movement;
yet i am a home for small round birds,
their nests with eggs
and creatures of fantastic colour
myriad my leaves;
the music of them is tuned to the breezes
which is the dandling pleasure we share.
What are you,
with your teeth
and sleek silence,
doing here?