The Predator Poem by Richard McClellan

Standing fast,
no recognition you see,
for hunted you are,
the blade flutters,
like a little butterfly at thee,

invisible to sound,
invisible to sight,
morphed technology,
no alien here right?

no, surely not,
like a chameleon it be,
spend much of its time,
hunting with no remorse,
reflecting a picture,
invisible on its course,

the predator up in the sky,
looks like an eagle,
with wings that fly,
stealth to all, just secrets to spy.