The lion in the winter
raises feral cubs
to the dismay of
a mother's love

As the snow sets
on the matted mane
and soaks deep into
a maddened brain

There a fragile future
Flawed and fleeting
somehow sings in sadness
This generation repeating

Sleep water still
Still night awake
Come death of a lion
We here shall wait

And dreams dangled down
shall soon surround
in all their weighty
and restless sounds

The great king passes
into the dark unseen
as we weep in our pillows
for these mysterious things

(September 10th, 2017)