Fragile today, 

handle with care.

Tomorrow she’s hunting,

teeth are bare. 

At times a stroke is plenty of feed.

Some nights deep is the need. 

Under the trees, 

she purrs, a gentle breeze.

Crawling in the dark,

hunger roars,

hunting the mark.

Gentle and brutal, carefully weaved.

And no one ever sees 

her come or leave.