Taken at Bannerghatta Biological Park in Bangalore

What’s a tiger but a bright, orange cat

who naps all day but doesn’t get fat?

How does he stay muscled and lean

when he eats and eats and sleeps between?

Sure, now and again, he’ll chase a gazelle.

Unlike my cat, who’s trained me with a bell

to deliver food to a bowl right under her nose

lest I hear the pitiful yowl of hunger throes.

But when chasing prey, tigers never run long.

He picks slow and weak over fast and strong.

And you’ll never see him run in the mid-day sun,

and he’ll always be napping when his meal is done.

[National Poetry Month: Poem #14]