Tigress Grass

Always I am a tiger inside,
running through the golden grasses
up the acacia tree
up to the blue and bird wing wind

But I look like a still life tiger
not moving my sleek grace muscles
toward the great green sea
toward the great green as green

I look like a tiger in the city
wrapped in a fur coat too tight
burning hot and spewing city water
lukewarm city dead water

And I see from the tops of that citys towers
gold patches of home
And I see from the tops of towers
a cold spring river cutting through
the city to find me