Author's Note: Poem is an extended metaphor.
Hawks have no clue how to live.
They're constantly swooping down and
catching, then killing the first thing
small enough
to sink their talons into, and after
they've picked it apart, they're
off to do it again.
Mice have no clue how to live.
Always afraid, always cowering
in some corner or a hole
wasting their lives just
waiting for a chance to do something
that never comes.
Cows have no clue how to live.
They sleep all day, waiting,
grazing, waiting for that next meal
waiting for some great end,
only to find their end in a
butcher house.
Catapillars have no clue how to live.
It's sluggish almost all their lives,
and then, in a wasteful blaze of glory
they try to live
and instead recreate their mistakes for another
generation of crawlers to make.
But cats, cats are amazing,
sly and brilliant, they come and go as they please,
they live, truly live. Always quick with
a smile, quick to protect what's theirs,
and smarter than anyone gives them
credit for.
I think, that if I had to be,
of all these,
I would rather be a cat.