The Lioness

she is draped

lazily over a warm

slab of grey

rock heated gently by the Sun.

eyelids half-closed heavy with the heat;

soft padded paw curled

almost like a fist.

and two spiraling flies

buzzing around her eyes,

caused a flick-of-the-tail

(or two).

she is Proud

like no other lion can be Proud:

for she is the Hunter,

the Gatherer, the Carer,

the Wise,

the Guardian, the Protector,

the Mother.

she watches as

her young frolic on the

burnt plains;

a smirk playing gently

at the corners of her

lips as she knowingly

observes those pale

brown figures hiding

pathetically behind

tufts of grass,

she almost Laughs

(do they think she cannot

see them in their

khaki shorts and

tourist hats?)

she lies unabashedly naked,

her golden fur glinting

in the light, she

needs no melodramatic

mane or roar -

for all her Power lies

in her stealth,

in her silence.

1927

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