Leather makes him
And weather strengthens:
He is seasoned by the earth.
Ever free, the quadrilateral isn't home:
He dwells amid the hills
And the rain and green thrills,
Though posterity misses by inches,
Pity him not an ounce.
Analysing each isolation,
Not a cheetah, he wouldn't pounce.
Priyanca Vaishnav
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