G. E. Reynolds (1949– )
So lightning fast they struck
My little flock of laying hens—
Just fifty—with three out of luck.
The fisher cat is fast and fierce,
Striking like a well-timed terrorist,
In cover of night, unseen they pierce,
Leaving feathers in their wake
To teach me about boundaries,
About fences to stop their take.
Plagues are so like those agile
Cats, who imperceptibly take their prey,
Foul molecules that kill the fragile.
But under the wings of the Most
High God, no pestilence can hide,
No scattered feathers boast,
Because the plague of sin and death
Can never penetrate the fortress
Of his gracious, life-giving breath.