To day we walked the rocks

a path often trod

familiar through frequency

yet always seeming new

Gentle rain falling,

covering the trees

with much needed moisture

trees close, boughs forming

a canopy over a small glade

wind calm, sky billowing gray

with patches of clear blue

birds about, though quiet

and keeping within the shelter

of trees and grasses

We say the lion is

the king of beasts

but is it really?

Does it rule the antelope?

Or perhaps it is a romantic image

we project on an animal

of beauty and power,

though not that successful as a hunter

the world seems gray

not depressing, but mysterious

some patches dark, others lighter

but not clear, color only when close

as if the world is hiding

in billowing clouds