The Tiger

He walks through the tall grasses,
Stalking some unsuspecting prey.
He pounces.
He has brilliant orange fur,
And black majestic stripes.
The sun hits him
Like a spotlight-
The world blurs
Unimportant.
He lands.
His claws.
His prey.
The kill.
Fast-
Almost painless,
Almost.
Crimson liquid stains his fur and pearl-white teeth.
He eats.
He drinks and cleans himself in the river,
ever flowing.
He stalks away.
Beautiful again,
And ready for the next kill.