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New poem by James Verner

The flitting, fleeing thing
Darted quickly through the gloom.
Scarcely did my blinking eye,
Did register the sprinting spirit,
Streaking through my living room.

But soft! The cat did descry it,
Just as quick as the nervous nit did
Zip and nip into my field of view,
And just as fast, found at last
A glowing pane where it stopped and hid.

And just as sure and just as calm,
The feline stretched and did wait,
As the sighing bug took one last breath,
Realizing not this was his very last,
Or the eyes that watched him beat and bate.