I stand at your shoulder
I see everything you see
But the view is not the same.
They are sparrows in our path
Inconsequential.
I will be the cat.
I stalk across their plans
All grace
Poised and deadly.
You leave the window open,
Pause to watch their flight
Delay the fight.
I could set them dancing if you willed it,
To our tune
Formation flights.
But to what purpose?
Choreographed death
When one sharp blow would have results the same
Yet bring me shame.
You see a stained-glass window
As a work of art
Yet it blocks our view.
I break it.
Do you turn away?
Or bid another take my place
For want of grace?