The Backyard Battlefield

A brilliant tactician,

She seeks the high ground

From which to survey

The battlefield.

Her keen eye glances skyward

To the branches

Which overhang

The lush terrain.

Nostrils slightly flared

A scent draws her

To look slightly

To her left

And she quietly leaves

Her lofty perch on the planter

To enter into a

Stalking crouch.

Movement catches her eye

And she freezes,

Awaiting the coming

Inattention of her prey

Which is focused on finding

An acorn, or

A pecan hiding

In the grass.

The stalk continues

With laser-like intensity,

Always keeping

The tree between

Her line of approach and

The furtive prey

Which occasionally

Sits up to wave

Its bushy tail as if taunting,

Or perhaps,

Warning her that

It is aware of her

Approach across the yard.

The strike comes

Like lightening

And the furry target

Scrambles for the rough bark

That leads it up

And out of reach

Of snapping teeth.

From a branch high above

The chattered scolding

Sounds a challenge

For another day.