I saw your trail on the brown earth
Red streaks, mapping your ordeal,
Pausing in longer shadows then others.
Your paw prints telling me to beware
And not to approach – if seen.
The blood had not yet dried
In the intense heat
So you were close.
Moving cautiously in a wide circle,
Away in another direction
But remaining upwind;
I listened,
Knowing that even in your condition,
You were still capable of attack,
And that I was now the hunted,
Wounded, by fear.
© Fingleton (Septembre 2016) (Löst Viking)
A visual feast ! The hunter becomes the hunted.The verse adroitly captures the suspense and fear.
Vijay, you have always been kind and generous with your comments …even on my most “fragile poems”. Your kindness outshines all other academic analysis.