Taps

It’s a sunny day in the jungle.
The animals are gathering for an important meeting.
A truce has been called for the betterment of all.
Lookouts have been posted on the perimeters.
Signals will be given should the man hunters approach.
It is not a happy day.

Many who came to previous meetings are not present;
They are dead,
Killed because they were trophies for ego,
Killed to be dissected for body parts, horns and tusks,
Killed for their hides and skins.
The body count will be tallied.
Those that cannot be accounted for are most probably
on display in the staring cages or
perhaps doomed to those places devised to test and alter…
one of the worst fates of all.

Some have come a day or so early.
Some are just arriving.
Some have sent others in their stead,
having been unable to cross a large body of water
or circumvent high mountains or thick pockets of humans.
The sea creatures have counseled with the land dwellers to represent them.
One by one they come to the gathering.
The greetings are with the eyes and perhaps
a small nod of recognition.
The representatives of each species
take their information to the record keepers,
and then take their place in the growing circle.
Overhead the birds glide on the wind,
landing silently and skillfully in the huge tree tops.
They too act as lookouts.

This is the way it has been in the past,
For centuries before.
But this meeting somehow is different.
As the hour to start approaches
A chill is sinking in.
This meeting was called as a prayer vigil.
Some had said “Not necessary.”
Some had said “Foolish.”
Some had said “It isn’t so.”

But now they all know it’s true.
Even those who doubted are
Silent with eyes to the ground.
No one looks at another.
The birds sit motionless in the trees.
The wind has stopped.
For just a moment it’s as if
The entire Earth is completely still.

The meeting is started just like before
Over the thousands of years
Long before man.
Started very quietly.
Started without the Tiger.

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