Cat

Quiet.
The mouse looks around unsuspecting.
Quiet.
I crouch and behind the grass
I hide.

Stalking;
I creep nearer.
The mouse, unsuspecting the inevitable ambush,
Looks around,
Sniffs the air, nothing found.

I pause;
The wind blows,
Ruffling the grass
Changes direction,
But not wrong.

Mouse sits,
Unsuspecting; nibbles on a stalk of grass.
I pounce.
The mouse is gone.
Searching, I begin again.

      -- Bem Ajani Jones-Bey