Lion

the old lion lifts his mane

scars tattoo forelimbs & face
a sequel to scraps & skirmishes
an easy gaze
on river pool
where buffalo family gambol
& robins & kingfishers 
swirl &

slice the air

calf wanders unseen
toward
the pulsing camouflage
a few green-brown yards away from
open nostrils & cloud of flies
slowly, an urge to strike, 
to brush aside inertia, rising
in the belly
of the seasoned one ,,,,
then: quickly
buffalo mum, eye now turned eagle, canters
from the shallows; & with
guiding horns
sweeps the toddler away

our languid giant
loses appetite
for bruising blood-letting bash 
with
hardened spikes - horns remembered
all too well
from some other sunday
in the highveld sun 

F.M.

Sketches - Frank Meintjies