Taken at the Budapest Zoo

Two tigers circle in the night.
Neither eager to be first in fight.
Bellies low, they scrape the ground.
Each step pads without a sound.

One false step brings the pounce
of each fearsome muscled ounce.
They twist and writhe and snap,
each jaw a toothy, steely trap.

In the end one slinks away.
Both live on to later days.
A test upon the jungle floor
and each cat knows the final score.