::: The Sentry ::: The quiet sentry looks/Making not a sound/As he walks on velvet feet/Surveying all around./He feeds on mice and birds/His natural predatory prey/He would much rather curl up/In your lap by the warmth/Burning in your fireplace./That's all he prays for in his lonely state of mind./He walks on velvet feet leaving only footprints in the snow/To tell us he's been there./This quiet sentry,/Master surveyor of a full square mile, his domain.:::(c) 2011 - Gwen Beauregard :::