The Velvet Tiger

He lies in wait amidst the vast,
dense jungle, camouflaged by brown
dirt, twigs, grasses and open plain.

He lies so still with scarce a breath
escapes his lungs, for fear of sound –
he matters not if pouring rain.

He hunts by ponds of shimmering
waters, pools, lakes and muddy ground,
to trap his prey ‘til none remain.

Why does he hunt? Why in this heat?
His scorching breath, the lizards back
he burns, as arching necks they crane.

And swarms of insects flutter bold,
blunder blindly – their vivid stripes
more striking than the parrot’s vane.

Green toads watch and wait in wonder,
eying every stealthy movement –
the unsuspecting predator
too soon becomes the hunter’s gain.

This velvet tiger with its stripes
of flaming orange, brown and gold
lies silent now in grassy grains.