A Tiger's Prayer
Once I fancied I heard your voice, feathered by the wind,
Wordless, or beyond my tin ear to decipher.
Always you were at the edge of sound, the verge of sight
A whisper, a shadow, a plangent absence.
But now I see you pickled in a jar,
My hairless, heirless little fellow worshipper
Head bowed, eyes closed, paws together
And I know that it was your prayer I heard.
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQ-Mcaa6kJE1i4N5hqfuI4PVAKOhkLc7ITsdfNmFB8ZIgq4hTkCCzCeYtKuucKvySr9XQKcFL9JziGQWBsFUmT9aFAwQtb1HWPdhTyLRc6f83ZLxqQs7JVA3VpWmhQ0EuuuYpAqB41b3o/s320/Thylacine.bmp)
1 comment:
Oh! Oh! Beautiful, it is as simple as it could be, full of depth and meaning and I love it.
Good on you, ol' Tin Ear
K
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