The Cretaceous Hunt (Because Dinosaur Poetry Should be a Thing if it is Not Already)

By Andrew R. Duckworth

Photo and editing by Andrew R. Duckworth
Through the jungle trail.
Large birds squawk through the jungle trail.
And out of the foliage peak predators,
Feathered, stable claws, squinted eyes,
Those eyes fixed on a few large animals
Gathered at a stream in a valley
Just outside the jungle,
Animals, quadrupeds, horns and a crown,
Their calls deep,
Billowing air from their massive lungs.
Each step they take and the ground shakes.
As the predators begin their slow exit
From the bushes, their eyes widen.
Their feathers puff out,
Excitement shoots through their veins,
Adrenaline perhaps,
As they step out of the jungle
Into the light pouring down
From a younger sun.
Speed enters those stamping feet,
And they dart towards their prey.
The large animals begin to flee,
But one struggles.
And the feast begins.

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