As he sits on his perch, looking below,
he ponders whose fine blood he will now taste.
He leaps down, his staircase a wheelbarrow.
Bounding below, he feels nothing like haste.
For a lizard on the ground had caught his eye,
and he had to have it between his teeth.
The leaves crunched, the grass smooth, dirt hard and dry,
while for his bloodlust he jumps down beneath.
The lizard is fast, but he can’t be beat,
chasing and running around the grass yard.
The sweltering concrete burns his rough feet.
His paws hit the ground, moving fast and hard.
Finally, he feels it squirm on his tongue,
With lizard in mouth, he shows what he’s brung.