Poemattic: Poetry and Art for the Soul

She sights a bird – she chuckles –

she flattens – then she crawls –

she runs without the look of feet –

Her eyes increase to Balls –

Her jaws stir – twitching – hungry –

Her teeth can hardy stand –

She leaps, but Robin leaped the first –

Ah, pussy, of the sand,

the hopes of juicy ripening –

You almost bathed your tongue –

When bliss disclosed a hundred toes –

And fled with every one. –

—Emily Dickinson