Leps

 
In their neck of the woods, the tigers fly
To the beach of a puddle to feed on the remains
Of the day, while the king reigns for one
Moment over thousands and thousands of miles.
They run up trees when the sun runs down,
And the green recedes as the moon opens
Its eyes, so the stalkers may see scales and wings.
Long legs, fuzzy eyes and coiled mouths
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