Hidden

To my quick ear the leaves conferred;
     The bushes they were bells;
I could not find a privacy
     From Nature's sentinels.

In cave if I presumed to hide,
     The walls began to tell;
Creation seemed a mighty crack
     To make me visible.


To My Quick Ear the Leaves Conferred (X), by Emily Dickinson


Sometimes, my cat behaves remarkably like some of the children at school. Who doesn't want to crawl away and hide sometimes?