We're all parched.

In a circle we sip
from the watering hole,
all sides, another animal
most of them pay me no mind

but the lion stares at me
from across the rain,

his whiskers brush
the surface —
I respect you.

He laps up his drink,
and with a flick of his tail,
bids farewell to good company.

I look down into the ripples,
formed from the mouths of
many thirsty beasts,
and I look up into my weary eyes.

I am grateful to be alive.

Kissed by rippling lips,
myself I drink deeply

Because this
may be the last time
I return to quench my thirst.

I wipe the drips from my lips,
and look down where they rippled

Lion smiles up.