Panther

Death is a panther,
You cannot spy it amongst the bush,
But you know it hunts you,
Hunts us all,

A killing machine to the bone,
Scythe-like fangs,
And eyes trained on your every breath,
Following your scent since birth,

Its claws rasp across grass and asphalt both,
Its hunt could take years,
Decades even,
But this feline always gets its meat,

Death is a panther,
It’s a grizzly or falcon or barracuda,
It’s an apex predator,
Not formed of flesh and blood,

But of solemn inevitability.