Lion

Do not believe his listless, lidded gaze,

Do not believe his yawning, sleepy frown;

For there lies down a ruler at his ease,

His tangled mane a shaggy, knotted crown.

The grasses sway, slim courtiers at his throne,

The sun bedrapes its cloak of golden sheen,

The gnats and flies won’t leave their king alone,

Small nobles clam’ring while their ruler preens.

But, hark! A threat appears – a dangerous foe

Come lumb’ring near the border of his realm.

The sovereign rises, and all gathered know

The greatness of his might to overwhelm,

Then down he bounds, his fury in his eyes –

His ire awakened now seeks out its prize.