She stood aghast at open door
And saw her cat proudly extend
A dead fresh pigeon in her claw!
OK, grey pigeons are a pest
Spikes on buildings thwart their perch
So they the stonework can’t infest
On proud Town Hall or Gothic church.
But just consider this poor bird
Its wings all limp, quite glassy-eyed
And then imagine what occurred
When kitty’s base instincts were stirred.
An uneven battle from the start
The cat, primed like a gun, reached out
The pigeon in all ways lost heart
That cat is an accomplished scout.
Law of the jungle here in town
The trophy placed at my friend’s feet
The Devil’s helpmate wears the crown
These killers lurk in every street!
(c) Poet in the woods 2013
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