eyes glint like pewter caught in a shaft of sun
the creature hides amongst the blades of a fern
the men work nearby never seeing the great hunter
killer of men, the true king of cats
stalking, watching, ebon stripes giving camoflage
against lush fur the color of watered-down tomato paste
palm fronds like candy canes unfurling in morning's light
stir and sway as the giant moves closer to the camp
they hear the scream and come with guns drawn
leaving the cages that hold the unconscious cubs
all that is left is spilled rock salt stained with blood
the last of the supplies the victim carried
the poachers, fearful now of the striped death
open the cages and flee with their lives
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