A King
A lion stands atop a hill.
He roars a challenge across his wide, wild territory.
His coat is polished gold.
His mane a proud shining crown of red and brown.
His eyes are glowing embers burning into the soul.
He flexes his claws;
they are curved, gleaming daggers.
He snarls to display his teeth;
they flash like sharpened rapiers.
His roar echoes throughout his grassy kingdom.
The striped zebras
raise their heads.
They wary gazelles
freeze stone still.
The birds dancing above on the wind
stop singing.
The challenge rings
unanswered.
He turns to prowl his realm
once more.
None wish to fight him,
None question his authority.
The birds are singing.
Copyright 1997
Alaisha Makalaster