Fully focused, claws employed.
Wild and sincere.
Jaws locked on the tight neck
of a desperate deer.

Buck Wheat and Sage Brush,
Indifferent to the deer’s demise
The chaparral hides its secrets
in the land without comprise.

Eight Blue eyes with
visions of sweet venison
wait for their mother’s
return to the lions’ den.

The smell of meat and blood
on their mother’s fur
makes these nursing
cougar kittens hiss and purr.

Stashing the night’s catch
two ridges to the West
the big mountain lion
is well fed, ready to rest.

Primal privacy invaded.
Whispers weird and near.
Twigs break. The dark is ripped
from the night. Hello fear.

Four light brown fluffs of fur.
Teeth small, sharp and white.
Eyes Blue, muzzle dark.
Defiant, ready to fight.

JS, the Biologist, and his crew
are extremely careful, yet quick,
collect data, tag ears, take video
before Mom’s return. That’s the trick.

P62, mother of the pride
monitored by radio collar
so there won’t be a surprise.
Her lifestyle studied by a scholar.

Four little pumas, one gender.
Celebrities, props for promotion
of sacred land, protection
of a connection to heartfelt emotion.

You can exercise in a gym
you can go for a hike.

You can go to the zoo
imagine a mountain lion is watching you.

The spirit of the wild
is something we crave.
Four little girls tucked in a cave,
future fates unknown.
If they can avoid; rat poison,
intraspecific strife, the fast
car, they should have a
long life, but they will still
need mates from afar.

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