The Tyrant

The anteater on the berg cast his gaze,

looking at the dissipating mist clear,

hunting for opportunities,

a moment of preparedness.

it’s claws , quietly cutting,

into the hardened ice,

oh, the bushy tail, sogged,

but not a hinderence,

let the polar bears play all they want,

they will not escape for long,

it’s lengthy tongue ,

the whales, alas, are growing scarce,

so are the walruses and seals,

since it’s mistaken introducrion,

into the arctic scene.

it knows no restraint,

and treats them all like ,

the formic prey it reveled at in past.

as the floe dot the watery horizon ,

the anteater knows, with joy,

the satisfaction of the overlord.

thralls and vassals,

all are his.