An imaginary lion is outside my tent.
At first I am alarmed,
but then I see that he is quite harmless.
I think I hear him purring
as he lies peacefully in the sun.
He seems to smile tolerantly
as a small animal scampers by.
He is a beautiful creature.
I am content with his presence—
I see the good in him so clearly.
But now he is becoming restless
and paces up and down,
sniffing suspiciously at the skirts of my tent.
I wish he would calm down—
behave himself.
He growls and swipes at the canvas
with his huge bared claws.
I am beginning to be nervous.
He roars, his tail switching from side to side,
warning me.
I can see that my tent
is no protection whatsoever.
