Harley The Hunter Poem by Cheryl A. Caron

The sun not yet risen
He steps out the doorway
And takes in the fragrances
Carried on the early breeze
Quite affectionate and willfully
Tame in his usual manner
There is an undeniable, savage
Hunger he can not resist
One that must be replenished
A penchant, a lust compelling
Beyond his control
At last he sees her
Sitting quiet and innocent
He watches her for a moment
She is busy with something
Held in her frail little hands
And fails to notice him
So he begins
No forethought or calculation
Prior conquests testament
His skill is as defined as his purpose
Stalking, every muscle taught
Yet moving silent and fluid
Gaze affixed, intentions preconceived
Close enough to taste her scent
When a subtle shift in the air
Seems to make her turn his way
He pauses, rigid
In seconds he is certain
Timing could not be more faultless
Lunging with forceful velocity
He is on her
Teeth tearing into flesh
Shaking his head, he finishes
Laying smugly by his prize
He begins to doze, warming
In the now rising sun
She will soon be forgotten
For she was merely a play thing
To toy with and discard

(poem about a cat and a chipmunk)


copyright 2007 Cheryl A. Caron