Cheyenne
not much of a morning girl
She hides away under a blanket
or deep in her clam-shell bed
a gentle soul biding her time
But a warm afternoon
and a fresh molehill?
She's found heaven
She digs snorting
and tearing at the grass
with her teeth
intent on her prey
Then she stops
lies down on the ground
and waits
I'm not sure
if she hears or smells or feels
the mole running below her
Suddenly she's back to digging
with new fervor
Once in a great while
she comes up with the prize
One quick shake
she tosses the mole
onto the ground to die
It can seem a bit brutal
for a first time observer
For her, it's all in a day's work
Photo by authoer