He sits there watching me
From high above that frosty hill
Each blink and nod sends shivers
Caused by him, not winter’s chill

His tawny piercing stare
Is intimidating and intense
Those massive moon eyes
Cause my body to tense

I realize with just one move
I could be made a satisfying snack
So I begin to scurry away
Not even daring to look back

Unfortunately this is my reality
And I know I’ve now been beaten
Because I’m just a poor field mouse
Who has now been served and eaten

© 2018 Michelle Cook