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Cat Nap
Sun falling on the Serengeti, dusk
 alights, and the lion’s still in the moon
 ‘neath anorexic dehydrated trunks
 resting in hunting grounds scavengers marked.
 Unearth, exhume, upturn, past the King’s gaze
 they swarmed to his fleshy prize, beak to bone
 delving past muscle and blood; the white gleams,
 disinterring done. Don’t wake the lion.
 Twilight eternalized, majestic prey
 (his kill behind barren landscape hidden)
 a heyday snack from their view from the sky.
 Unrecognized so long now, blazon, dazed
 harbinger of winter, stuck in midnight’s glare
 as vultures leave his great adventure bare.

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