Lion, Thing of Beauty

As he treads with prowling skulk

His fur in waves throws shining gleam,

One cannot take their eyes away

And should not take their eyes away,

For if they moved their eyes away.

He’d be gone, a forgotten dream.

With giant paws that silently tread,

Carrying him in doughty stead

He struts and strides with vigour and might

As his body caresses the gentle night.

His face so strong and so immense,

With patient, loving eyes that sense

That there is life.  He’s spied his feast.

And now we’ll see a different beast.

He motionless stands, with utter skill,

His only thought to catch and kill.

He does not dare to take a breath

As he watches his prey move closer to death.

The smell of warm and living blood

Glides closer to him through the mud.

He knows that he must take a chance.

And now he’s gone with fierce advance.

With killing claws he tears and rips,

And feasts upon the flesh he grips.

One pounce is all it takes from this

spectacular and irreverent beast.

One pounce is all it takes for him

To prove beyond doubt that he is King.

(c) Claire Alison 2017