Morning bright rises on the savanna,
Sunny rays dance between the grass stems.
The wind combs the fields with an unseen hand,
Waving the ocean of green, yellow, and brown,
In a whispered crest of colors, feathers, and furs.
A water hole sparkles down in the ravine,
Alert gazelles stand hoof-deep on its bank,
Taking anxious turns, drinking, watching, reassuring.
Beneath the waves, a young lioness traverses seamlessly,
Leading others on the trail of a hyena’s clan through the meadow.
With careful planning and cooperation,
She takes aim, readies, and when the moment is right, charges,
Chasing away their scheme,
Arresting their danger,
And keeping nature’s order,
For a generation of life in the savanna.
Many moons later, lioness again traverses the meadow,
Her movements are gentle, masterful, those of a skilled dancer,
Her grown cubs have prospered; they now prowl distant valleys,
She trained them well yet continues to watch over them from a distance.
Traveling through her territory, she is cautious to hide her figure,
For the hyenas still stalk in the valley.
Vengeance can outrun the fastest sprinter,
A hunter must never lose sight of their game.
Morning sun rises on the meadow,
Nature’s harmony maintains from the tops of trees to the bottom of the lake.
The wind combs the fur of the watchful lioness,
Who stands high below the tall stems.