She was a good mother, teaching her children well

In the sense of cattiness and other cautionary tales

She taught by example the importance of preying

Long before supper in the fine art of the slaying

It was a matter of  gradation and subtle style

That brought to her a sort of Cheshire smile

Before and after she was what she was complete

A big cat who stalked her prey with her own four feet

In a world where real truth is a dangerous commodity

She teaches her kittens a solid sense of purposed community

The wickedness of her pride was hidden in the dark night

Slunk down low and concealed never to be brought to light

That is until the day the jaded hunter caught her in his scope

Hanging herself out to dry like a hide at then of it’s last rope