(01) Serious Stuff Poem by J.B. LeBuert

Dawn had approached and it slinked and slithered about.
It smelled the strong odors with its pointed short snout.
It knew how to hunt, creeping down and staying low,
The saliva began to secrete and to flow.

Her eyes were flickering, and skin pulsing with sweat,
Nothing would survive, anything that she now met.
It crouched down on the tree bough, just ready to pounce,
As big as an elephant, or light as an ounce.

Her teeth were shining brightly in the low moonlight,
It moved with grace and ease, never felt any fright.
Hair bristling with the sheer excitement of the kill,
It could bend all, to its overpowering will.

The aroma of death would hang in the night air.
All of nature’s beasts now became subtly aware,
The mist and the fog that night could easily hide,
The lone Shewolf was alive, and ready to ride.

The building anger at the very last missed kill,
Would not relent, She was really feeling the thrill,
The excitement and thrill grew in the angry beast.
She quickly leapt from the large oak, ready to feast.

The big striped tiger was naturally caught off guard.
Shewolf swiftly attacked with her sharp claws set hard.
The male tiger didn’t have time to take a glance.
His death came quickly, and not by any mere chance.

Before the morning broke, the tiger was devoured.
Shewolf would stalk again, she wasn't a coward.
Just bones were left there, on the bloody forest floor.
Shewolf must eat again, She was hungry for more.

The night played out, and she had killed more than her fill.
The pups needed nourishment, but they couldn’t kill.
Now She was back to the lair, to feed her small brood;
She fed them all with her kill, this lightened the mood.

Life would continue daily like this for a while.
The bones laid there silent, in a humongous pile
The furry little varmints couldn’t get enough.
This continuing killing was Serious Stuff.