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Driver had come so far.
the night overtook him
as he approached his hunting ground.
A strange road, a strange town,
The Hotel lights glowed in the distance,
but not for him tonight.
Better stop out of town, than in a
place where patrons asked
too many questions.

Driver pulled over in the rest- stop glade,
And there to sleep until first light.
The night was cool,
The engine hot.
Opened his window, just a bit
to get fresh air and sit,
as the moon beamed down,
the night birds sang,
the scent of gum trees on the breeze,
the ticking of the engine as it cooled.

An old tomcat, a ginger stripe,
jumped from nowhere to
the bonnet,
where he sat,
enjoying warmth from
the engine’s heat.
Presently he carefully came
to the open window,
which Driver opened further down,
and Old Tom slowly entered
and curled up on his lap,
purring softly in the gloom,
under that full moon,
and at dawn, out he softly went,
to find a mouse, on his patrol,
in his owner’s hay shed.

Driver, now awake,
travelled on,
to find and watch his suspect,
and recalled the fellowship of mammals,
who go hunting in the wild.