HERE COMES THE KING

A cursory stroke in the shrub
Sets the gathering busy;
While rodents begin their chase,
The donkey jeers above a whisper:
"No one is afraid of any cat!"

Sound of a thick snap in the overgrowth
Invites the moon to stare
At a deserting arena,
And the grass to witness a stampede,
Herd of swine racing down the deep.

In his hide,  the donkey smells
The heat of his hot blood
And tastes the bite of his liver
As the hunter would

The leopard walks the dim in majesty,
The king is not on hunt,
Sometimes the numbers are allowed
To have their say here where
One head is better than a score,
And a red heart wears the crown.

Here comes the king!

(c)  Nwafor Awala
2024