You descend the hill. Your fur is pale yellow; black spots embroider you.
Lynx—go—
seize that sparrow with your bite,
then scent out your next find—
the farm is down the hill.
And from the hilltop your eyes
are so sunburst bright.
Heather Sager is an author of short fiction and poetry. Her recent work appears or is forthcoming in 45th Parallel, Painted Bride Quarterly, The Chaffey Review, Literary Orphans, Mojave River Review, and other journals. She lives in Illinois.