A Jungle Weave
the air abuzz in the palace by the swamp
the honorary king croc was badly ill, inside the icu
queen croc paced, edgy, sat by his side
wise owls readied thread and scalpel
outside, other big reptiles continued to gobble-up helpless preys
some chameleons shed crocodile tears
the monkeys rattled up and down, left and right
snakes hissed and some posed for the fatal strike
vultures crowed waiting for the carcass
a bald eagle hovered ready to swoop down for a tear
as a hotter jungle world awaits with bated breath,
the queen croc thoughts were
she truly owed her throne to the gentle giant croc
he was a smooth operator, fund-raiser, and financier
big and small crocs sidled-up to him
still, she knew he'd get over this as the
giraffes craned their necks to heavens for miracles
lions, tigers were on the prowl for wayward subjects
three weeks later, the king croc, pale and slim, checked-out
and went directly into the palace for much needed rest
meanwhile the caged ex-king croc commiserated as he knew
how it was to be under the devil's spell when one calls the shots
but life has to move on and they have to go
the big-gentle croc pondered,
he has to report back to the wise owls for counsel and check
what a complete turnaround from the bad old days
might as well give it all back,
he will only give a little back and that's the saddest part of all
as he fully knows others will soon follow-suit
reading the minds of the jungle's denizens, for them,

