She’s as still as a statue
Except for one thing
You’ll see her tall swishing
Ominously
Her focus pin-pointed
On the birds in the trees
And patience that will make
An angler shy
She watches with eyes
That glint like glass
And her antenna like whiskers
Are like shivering aspen
She is the queen of all hunters
It is in the blood
Of this enigmatic creature
This hunting machine
While I undoubtedly sympathise
With her poor hapless victims
I cant help admiring
Her grace and her stealth
For there is one thing we all
Must remember that is
She can’t help herself
Because that’s who she is
have to love cats, mines fat but still manages to catch the mice. I still don't know how he does it.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Your great love of your subject shines through this stunning portrait of a leonine beauty. Some excellent images - especially '... patience that will make an angler shy' and 'her antenna like whiskers are like shivering aspen' And, you're right, there's no malice at all... love, Allie xxxx