an African leopard

Whose wings did you borrow

Then, before you walked on

The moon of many rains,

In open disregard

Of the etiquette

Of butterflies,

Their way lost less,

On the ice than in the dry

Desert skies?

Perhaps that is why

The gap underfoot yawns,

And it is hard

To evade even

The shadow;

Nothing to do though, but

Wait.

The leaves of Shiva play their

Flute in the dusk of silver snow.

The power of kindness

Rests within

The great,

Holy acacia tree, near where

The leopard remains,

Standing guard,

Defender,

In the echoing dawns.

By Sharon St Joan

Written September 25, 2010

Photo: Kitchner Bain / Dreamstime.com