The Ultimate Tracker Weasel (Mustela Nivalis) Poem by john (called jack) wren

Hungers imprint clasped the air
Tighter than a clip grips hair, as
Cool air was breathed in and wrung
Passing sweetness to its tongue.
As a well known scent pervades
Sweeping the airwaves in cascades
With an odour fresh and strong
As familiar as a singer to his song.
So beware, of the one small and petite,
From nose to tail he's a killer complete.
Up on his hind legs, on full alert
Every sinew ready for that spurt
Like a hound waiting for the call
From a huntsman's horn before nightfall.
It could end the day ever so sweet
With a dish of the finest red meat.

This terror on legs, moves across the land
As fast and sly as a pickpockets hand.
Dipping his toes in the water of hope
Trusting it will end hungers tightrope:
In dry wall terrain, he flows without fear
Weaving between stones like a bold cavalier,
Leaving them in shock and drained of tone
Weeping for those fleeing into the unknown:
Only his fading shadow can keep pace
Until that sweet moment of embrace
Striking swiftly to still a pounding heart, he's
the ultimate tracker that none can outsmart
A killer unique, unrivalled in his society, and,
For those he meets, a nightmare, turned reality.
Freedom gone, like dust on the wind