Following the scent, his nose to the ground
His shadow showing the way
One paw after the other, carefully, gently moving
no stress, but here he won’t stay
He moves like a feather, so light almost transparent
You cannot hear a sound
He is searching for a victim, might be a mouse
or a bird, whatever will be found
But why so slowly, he is a cat
his mother showed him how
She said pounce where you hear them
so he uses his ears, but will make no meow
He stands a while and pauses turning his head
You might think he is looking to find
But this is a cat that cannot use his eyes
For many years he has been blind
He lost his sight, but not his smell
and his hearing is even better
The stealth of his gait, his movements so graceful
And here the ground is wetter
This makes no difference the scent is strong
A mole has moved this way
So he buries his nose into the earth
There is no time to play
And so our blind cat just follows the scent
His shadow at the fore
He has no problems, he is so brave
He will never be unsure
Poetry Posse - Week 22 - The Shadow
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