Prey

I saw a long, lean half wild rangy thing,

Climbing from the creek into the yard.

It slinked its way across the field

On silent feet and stopped, arrested

By the scent of a baby doll left by

The neighbor’s carefree, careless child.

I suppose God must love even cagey things,

Those attracted by the smell of innocence,

Themselves one moment abandoned on the ground,

The next locked in the jaws of something other,

The next, disappearing into dark beneath the trees.