I could poke you with a big stick <br />But still you wouldn't wake <br />You're like a camel who stores sleep <br />Counting field mice instead of sheep. <br /> <br />One long day and a short summer's <br />Night; twenty four hours straight. <br />In the sunshine you stealth stalk then <br />Darkness cloaks as you lie in wait <br /> <br />We know you take it seriously <br />But do you have to crunch <br />Their poor, hapless bones so loudly? <br />(Hardly behaving politely) . <br /> <br />You cough up mice corpses <br />With their crunched heads. <br />They're a strange kind of litter <br />Amongst the flower beds. <br />But we love you dearly <br />Despite your crimes. <br />You own us both completely <br />And squint at us sometimes.<br /><br />Maureen Pickford<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/hunter-cat/
