Leopard   I look like the forest at noon — sun-dappled, still. I look like the forest at night — a shadow, featureless, lethal. My maps are scents — yours, or maybe your cattle, frightened that I might be near. They’ll never hear me, not before I’ve taken what I need. I can smell your traps, I can smell your fear, I can thrive most anywhere, leave tracks leading nowhere — I can disappear at will. My property is whatever I choose to defend. Love means little to me, hate is no part of my calculations — killing is life. I don’t care what you want. Do you think you can outlast me? I can wait.     © Michael Fleming Marlboro, Vermont September 2021