Her eyes turn to narrow slits,
flashing hungrily in the dark of night,
a deep growl emits from her tawny powerful throat,
heavy muscles flex in anticipation,
as she growls her warning to the sleepy land.
Ceaselessly she prowls silently through the plains,
she sits quietly observing all the beasts by the waters edge,
seeking her prey weary wounded and afraid,
Stretching her limber limbs,
she quietly stalks her prey.
Quick as lightning out of the dark night she leaps,
sharp teeth sinking into soft unprotected flesh,
a brief struggle in the night,
and it's a poor gazelle for dinner tonight.
Donavon Scott Vinson