In the eye of a lion

A sea of grass, standing brown
Peppered with many a tree around
The grasslands of the Savanna great
Embodying many a beast of prey

A hunter proud, with rifle in hand
Knows not fear, for he is a seasoned man
As he surveys the terrain rough
Awaiting his prey surely enough

A herd of zebras soon arrive
Along with their psychedelic stripes
The hunter aims to take a shot
When he senses a shadow lurking about

The herd has heard its lowly growl
As it emerges in a furtive prowl
Its vicious mane, a darker shade
Than its tawny hide displayed

The herd raise a cloud of dust
As they break into a gallop robust
The lion already on the chase
But the zebras outrun its frantic pace

The hunter lets out a manic cry
For he has found a worthy prize
A lion's head on display
And an exciting game to play

He fires out a playful shot
The lion's attention he has got
Its ferocious roar, he perceives
As it gazes at him, aggrieved

With nothing there in between
In their eyes, their opponents seen
At gunpoint, its survival bleak
As their standoff reaches an epic peak

With a smile on his lips, the trigger squeezed
As all tensions have ceased
For he shall make out alive
As the Sun in the west, makes a dive

The lion continues its deathly prowl
Its eyes light its vicious scowl
The hunter has crucially misfired here
And for the first time, he knows true fear