The
secondary jungle
The
silent predators move unseen
Camouflage
by the trees, bushes and leaves
The
casting of dim lights and its shadows
The
birds chirping away
The
silence turn into sweet melodies
As
the wood-cutter gathers his wood
In
the secondary forest of cooling retreat
In
the morning of the mist
The
wood-cutter carries his load
Walking
on the wet grass and misty air
He
isn't worried about the silent predators
The
mosquitoes bite on his shoulders
He
shrugs it off and keeps walking
In
the forest he uses to trek to collect his wood
He
knows about danger behind trees and bushes
He
sees cobra snake
Slithering
away as he approaches
He
says his short prayer knowing about cobra
Its
sting is poisonous and death in minutes
In
nature he trusts his soul
Stop
at the streaming fall to quench his thirst
The
lights begin to spread its shine
He
can see clearly in the wide forest
Behind
a tree he sees
The
python crawls showing its head
He
carries his wood and hurries along
He
doesn't want to be the food chain
He
reaches home
He
relates his story
Of
the silent predators
Operating
in cool shade of the forest
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