My female human wrote this poem on the kittens.
The Blissfulness of Kittendom
From a vantage point two inches off the ground
I stalk my prey
dodging and weaving
growing into my paws,
My head heavy,
pulling me down when I try to run.
But still I press on,
slipping and sliding on the hard floor:
Alert and aware of any threatening sound
(which is to say, any new sound at all)
My tail is raised to attention,
My back is arched
and my fur -
I close in
I crawl, I creep.
The world is fresh and new
and I am a hunter
as were my ancestors, and their blood runs through me
Suddenly I pounce, leaping high into the air
bouncing when I land and rising even higher
I surprise and overpower the prey.
I trap it and
the blood pulses through me and I am alive
And the flip flop has no idea