Bad Day to Be a Zebra

The zebra senses something's wrong
Looks over his back
All he sees -
The stripes of his, all black and white
And a patch of tall grass swaying in the wind

He missed the lioness
Obscured by grass he sees too late
When the zebra sees her it's too late
She jumps out -
And he's on his back -
And she's got his neck!

In an open field he could have run
If not that then kicked her away
But she used her wit, concealed herself
Poor dude
He never even got a chance

He won't be running now -
Throat's ripped out, inside of her mouth
A ruthless death for foolishness,
A lesson taught while gnawing on his head.

One more Zebra approaches the lakeside
Looking for shade in the baobab trees
She sets herself up,
This time amongst the clay,
Patience perfected, breath held, waits

His hairs are tingling now
Water's calm in can't be the wind
But he looks the wrong way,
Opens a blindside,
Condemns himself,
Submits his flesh for taste

Bad day to be a Zebra!

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