The heat is beating down
But not a body stirs.
Behind each closed eye play dreams of the next hunt,
Down by the water hole.
The sound of hooves racing on thirsty soil,
A dazzling flank of black and white,
The humid smell of fear.
The Pride stirs.
A flex of paws,
An orgasmic stretch from ears to tail
She moves out
Muscular limbs at the ready for the hunt.
She spots him,
Standing alone like a beacon,
The cracks of old age marring his nose.
Hunkering down, whiskers to the ground
She pads in the undergrowth.
Pulse racing, rump in the air,
She pounces from her hiding place
A blur of golden brown fur, a piercing scream,
The hunt has begun,
The Zebra and the Lion.