Fleet as wind, she slenderly navigates the
early morning world. A world unseen to the
sleepers, tinned skies distilling the blue of
the west, the yellowing east.
Her eyes are liquid black slits, binocular-like
and always moving. No sound betrays her tiny
presence, skulking over the shed roof.
A hunt at dawn seemed best.
Her watery amble is a river of black silk.
The wiry frame perfected over millennia.
I imagine her, proudly perched next to
some gilded pharaoh,
Her all knowing persona guarded by the
lack of speech, a carnivorous genius.
She sees a mid-shaded morning, her
flexing lens calculating effortlessly.
The hunt is on..
a clever write is expressed in a beautiful poem.. makes a cat the subject of masterpiece..nicely done..grace
an original and fresh description of the cat...
good poem you have described the cat so well
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.I would like to translate this poem
im impressed by your way with words.keep it up hey and please check mine out