A Moment in the Churchyard

The previous time I went to Hubberholme churchyard - some months ago - there was an incident which I have tried to recreate in a poem:-

In the cloistered quiet
sunlight filters through the leaves
upon a tabby cat. She lies asleep,
neatly round,
like an ammonite
upon a dappled stone.

A sound, too faint
for human ear
but not for her.
In one swift move
she pounces, and
her lethal paw crushes
the tiny shrew,
blood, sinew and bone.
A wanton killing.
She will not eat
such bitter meat.
The tiny bruised body
melts into the grass
amongst the long-dead
and the cat sleeps again.