His mane blows in the August breeze
lurking for prey he’ll never seize
he won’t stop once to take a breath
let his breath be the cause of his untimely death
the sun glows dimmer, deep in the sky
It’s almost time for the moon to rise
the mountains stand tall a mile away
let the predators creep out to stalk their prey
the plain gleams golden, but not for long
the moon comes out too the dying sun’s song
and deep in the plain, the lion lies low
Careful not to be seen even by the moon’s glow
For if he is caught he must wait longer
Until the time is right until he is stronger
and then he spots his prey in the distance
he flies now with perfect persistence
in the August breeze he’ll never seize
*
*
*
until his death
just one last breath