Flattened against the ground down in the weeds,
Our cat inched forward as if he would reprise
Remembered hunts beneath savanna skies
When cats crept close, then charged with fatal speeds.
Could this contented purring pet have needs
Beyond the food our family supplies?
An answer blazed in his green feral eyes
Appraising doves that unaware pecked seeds.
While watching Tabby-Toes, I first had scoffed
That pets, domesticated, old, fat, lame,
Could dream of stealth and chase, the clutch, the kill,
But as he leaps toward doves that hurl aloft,
I charge with him, forget I too am tame,
A memory from the jungle whispering still.
