Hunger

Silent through dead leaves and grasses it sneaks,
Stalking its prey near the rivers and creeks,
Knowing that soon, the poor creature will die.
And then it will eat its fill under the sky.

Hunting through forests and fields is its life.
It carries no rifle. It wields not a knife.
Only its instincts help it on its way
To hunt down, and capture, and consume its prey.

There in a clearing, exhausted and shaking,
It sees the blood dripping from wounds of its making.
Its hunger arises, and quick as thought,
It bounds to the creature, whose pain it has wrought.

Its feral teeth gnashing, it lunges to kill,
Quenching the hunger it needs to fulfill.
Now its mouth and its throat are filled up with blood,
As its prey falls down dead and still in the mud.

Its hunger is sated, although just for now.
It wanders away, and it's wondering how
It will stalk a new creature as soon as it can,
For what cares a lion for the worries of man?

Reviews

[Patricia]

Nature, it is what it is and even at its hungriest it is still beautiful. Nicely done