NIGHT DEATH
The three-quarter angled moon -
like a monstrous, baleful, cataracted eye -
blindly searched the dark beneath
where death was heard in a cut off cry -
nothing else but a rustle in the undergrowth;
a struggle to breathe between two jaws.
Something kicked twice and then was still;
an unseen end in teeth and claws.
I froze to hear both a victory and tragedy;
for something was fed and something died;
and somewhere the babes in a den would be full;
and somewhere the babes in a nest be denied.
The moon will not always look down at creation
cursed to this time of predator and prey.
The lion and lamb will lie down together
because even death will die one day.
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