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About This Author
 Writing poetry allows me to exercise my imagination and share it with others. I strive to write for the benefit of the reader using carnival fun mirror images of my life's experiences.
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| Mice nervously live in timeless units, Twitching and testing each sense. They endlessly second guess decisions, To move quickly muscles tense. For their adversary's silent descent, Haunts even their waking dreams, Rousing from their daytime sleep, They relive the horrible screams. The Great Horned Owl stalks, On soundless wings, bringing death. Mice are always a wrong move away, From realizing their final breath. In darkness once lurked a mouse's foe, Hungry for a mouse's savory meat. The mouse felt the long ancient fear, Of an owl searching for mice to eat. The mouse feared the draw of owl eyes, Piercing the darkness like ruby red lasers. It tunneled under the thick matted thatch, To avoid the owl's talons, sharp as razors. The mouse found treasure, a scrap of food, It stopped to enjoy a well-earned snack, Allowing the owl to pinpoint its position, Like lightning, the mouse was under attack. The moonlit stillness shattered like glass, The mouse struggled in vain to be free, The owl's silver talons sunk into the bone, Carrying its prey to the tiptop of a tree. There it lay bleeding, mortally wounded, The mouse with its still-beating heart, Taken by babies of the Great Horned Owl, Its flaccid body was greedily torn apart. Why you may ask, do I write of, Such a disturbingly graphic scene? It's simply to show that in nature, Killing, though grotesque, is an essential thing. We kill for our self-protection, We kill for the health of our youth, Known by the wise and Great Horned Owl, Killing, in nature, is an ugly truth.
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