The Hunter

He strides low to the ground,
Legs crouching ready to pounce
Waiting patiently without a sound,
Muscles steady, ready to trounce.

Eyes intently riveting on a bird.
He creeps under a bush for cover,
the bird’s faint pecking is heard.
On a telephone wire, a squirrel hovers.

With a rapid rush, a fury flash dashes.
Shrill overhead chatter suddenly erupts
Beating wings lift, avoiding scratches…
Despising eyes look up at the interrupter.

by Theresa Ann Moore

Comments (2)

Teresa i like this poem, well done
My dog catches birds right out of the air.....they sneak attack around the pool and catch the birds unaware....almost sounds like a tiger hunter here: O)