Katherine Wheatley

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The Sea

The sea is a prowling cat, Beautiful and deadly. She sneaks around the shores so deftly, Climbing the cliffs with her long sharp claws, Trapping the sand between her sneaking paws. The purring of the softened stones Ceased by the clashing of bones against bones. The slinking sea-cat growls, Rubbing her back on the hardened rocks.

And when the night wind roars, And the moon shudders in the stormy cloud, She awakens at once with a blink and a sniff, Whilst attacking the jagged coat of the cliff, And screeches and screams long and loud.
But on peaceful days in May and June, When even the grasses hush and coon, But play no more their sensory tune. With her head draped inside her tail, She dozes on the sandy shores, So quiet, she purrs, caressing her velvety paws.

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