The Tigress

I gazed upon the vast, blue sky
the rugged growth, brown and green;
I strained to hear her raging cry,
a mystery so rarely seen.

The muscles ripple powerfully,
the fire flashing from her eyes;
her restless pacing, endlessly,
I can only sympathize.

Her cubs, long lost to man's own hand,
would have been immortality;
Alone, now, she longingly roams the land,
crying out so beseechingly.

A mighty figure, proud and rare,
the strength, the high intensity;
She fixes you with her steady stare,
you have the urge to turn and flee.

Man's own hand, so swift a judge,
has placed her on the phase-out plan;
but true to form, she holds no grudge,
she only wants to hold her land.

Her home grows smaller every day,
her territory dies;
the awesome tigress will fade away
with one last angry, lonely cry.

And man, the one who plays the God,
will blossom day by day;
and all our creatures, with barely a nod,
will slowly slip away.