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The Midnight Hunt

CC Leoni'24

The cool fresh breeze rushes through his silky fur

The bright spring moon shimmers on his broad back

His black stripes glow underneath the beaming light.

Whiskers as sharp as needles

A claw that can tear through the skin of the Nemean Lion

A tongue so rough it can make metal bleed

A coat as impenetrable as the walls of Troy

Jaws that can crush the toughest of stones

A roar that rivals the song of the Sirens

And a stare…

The stare that can outmatch Medusa.

A stare, glance, peek; whatever it may be

That in the shining yellow of the eye

The reflection of one’s death dances too well

And with the twitch of his tiny paw

And the cry of his squeaky meow

The little kitten kept dreaming.

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