As dawn lifts Her head across the dunes,
The bright promise of day awakens.
A herd of gazelle stir from commune,
Apricot rays theirs for the taking.
Rough hides are warmed by the now gentle glow,
As they calmly sit by the river’s flow,
Through the fresh morning light.

The golden sun sits upon Her throne,
Burning high in a deep azure sky.
A creature rich of scales and small of bone,
Seeks solace beneath the bonsai.
It flicks its tail in discontent,
Waiting for the scorching eye’s descent,
No match for her fiery might.

As Twilight becomes Her dappled name,
Lavender dusk quiets the land.
A sharp beaked falcon, with claws the same,
Sweeps across the shifting sand.
Hungry eyes fix on a form of scales,
And with a sharp strike that rarely fails,
No more starving bird of flight.

Leaving Her realm, the Queen closes Her eyes,
Her last words a beckon to darkness.
Out from slumber does the predator rise,
Cruel power built to aggress.
The resting gazelle is no match for such strength,
The falcon’s wings cannot fly to such length,
A champion beast of the night.