His back feet he kicks out,
High in the air, with no ground to meet,
Like steel traps his back legs bolt,
At something he dream-hunts, perhaps
At something small his front paws grasp
Though there is nothing there at all,
Murrs and low growls pull lips to bare teeth,
At what may be dream mice, or fowl
He slept with ease before his stroke,Now sleep calmed limbs have been released,
His four paws shake and lash, I watch,
And witness his whole world aquake
From on a chair or on the floor,
I’ve seen him leap straight in the air,
Aerial pounce while sound asleep!
On all fours lands without a bounce!
While he’s at rest he’s more active
Than when awake, and I suspect
He’s not, to sleep, counting small mice,
He’s dream hunting great big horn sheep!
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