Lion Country: A Vision

for Cynthia Burton Shackelford

Lion, Lion, Lion, the whole dream
Pulsed as it was told:
First the maned Girl, asteam
With haloed warmth, gold
As I was when we winged
The desert toward The Caves.
Then our escape, as ringed
Ringing green-and-golden waves.
Finally the tawny Self, caged.
Atop, we let it stalk;
It took us, disengaged
As dunes might walk,
Ashift beneath us like our will,
To open cities we might fill.

View Joe Wrobel recording this poem