Hope in the harvest

Dead grass, dead field -- yellow dismal golden death
a golden sun sinking into a cold winded sea
rounded hovel of branches -- a prairie scorned
once thriving
emerging from solar stabbed shadows
eyes coal black
ready to ignite as diamonds
white fur feline triumphant
full shining coat unsoiled
once a lion of the living room
carrying memories of all and none
from primordial jungles and the temples of ancient Egypt to the urban landscapes splitting apart
there's a knowing satisfactory grin
subtle
cats of eternal constantly fluctuating time
descendants and ascensions
the lion surveys his kingdom