Books
Poetry/Lyrics
Essays
On Guard
Erect, on guard.
Ears pricked.
Eyes locked right.
Smooth fur keenly feels the cool night.
Enemy cats are somewhere here.
Perhaps near, she thinks,
ever waiting for a weak link.
A gap in the fence.
A chink in the steel.
A rustle in the bush.
Eyes lock, and ears focus.
Something living this way comes.
Pupils widen,
ready to pounce,
to give a pound and take an ounce.
Tense the claws,
and scout the fence.
Scan the yard.
Wait, like bait,
erect, on guard.
|
