A sparrow flew down, from the Hackberry tree,
Richard Parker waited, so patiently.
Down came the sparrow on the fly,
Richard Parker leaped, so very high.
Then just when he thought, of a tasty sup,
The sparrow curved, and flew back up.
Richard Parker was not one bit deterred,
He sat on his haunches, and bathed his fur.
Then he hunkered down, in a shady spot,
He knew there were more sparrows, quite a lot.
And he has that patience, an inherrent trait,
Sweet little sparrows, should not tempt fate.
4/1/14 Alton Texas
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
My cat, Doobie, and I love this!