Children of the Wild

Hues of all colors paint the trees

Emerald greens, vibrant oranges, crimson reds.

The lush arms stretch forward,

Sheltering the dangerous children beneath.

They lurk

            And swipe,

Cunning and dark.

The children are bathed in the tears that fall-

            Down from their mothers.

Growls emerge, blood smeared in paw marks

Yellow and black spots cloud the morning mist

Prowling the night, when they do not sleep

Eyes of a predator, jaws open wide

In mother’s arms they pounce. One last kiss.

Onyx in sight: as the others scurry, concerned.

The forest alive, a beating-heart grave

Growls turn to purrs as the hunger is sated.

As the tears fall once more, the children return.