Just Being a Jaguar

Creeping silently throughout the forest floor,
Completely camouflaged.
She stops, peering into the brush
Noticing movement nearby.

Gliding toward the movement
Her journey is not wasted.
Just beyond that tree there
Are a group of bush pigs
Feasting on a mango.

Her ear flicks unexpectedly
And involuntarily
Because of a flying, pesky insect
And the pigs begin to sniff the
Air, alert and suspicious of the
Smell flowing downwind.

The pigs bolt and the jaguar gracefully 
Launches with her robust
Thighs, diving into the thick
Of them, sinking her teeth into 
One unlucky, unfortunate pig,
One who never knew what
Happened within those clutching
Teeth and those magnificent claws.

As she feeds, she is not scared,
No worries because she is the 
Predator of all predators,
The Jaguar queen of the jungle,
Known for her stealth.

Otherwise, she prefers to be
Alone, belly full of dandy meat
Slaking her ravenous hunger. 
Having finished her meal,
She slowly and satisfyingly
Ambles over to a shady nest 
Of moldy leaves, and rests.

She sleeps well because
She does what jaguars do.

How are we being our true selves
And, how do we sleep?