Atop the rock upon which i built 
my sacred tower of stones that tilt,
she nibbles on the moss there grows;
Dainty, poised – her balance shows.
It could easily come crashing down
As shes turns herself nimbly around –
Destroying the pillar either by intent, 
the result is the same, if its accident.
A precarious position i can only observe
in case my proximity breaks her nerve.
And so i pause with breath baited
hoping she spares what was created.