A Lion Sits Guard

By Andrew R. Duckworth

A lion sits guard,
Looking out over the small hill
And the small stream
And the rolling plains,
Frozen, as if encased in ice,
Only bending to the progression of time
As the years chip away
With weather and decay.
And someday,
That lion will be a simple form,
No longer the beast that sits in watch.
Until that day,
The lion stays,
A stone guard on stone steps.