The Great Horned Assassin

There is a family
Of random killers
Silently patrolling the
Precisely landscaped
Lawn and flowerbeds
Of these retired soldiers

Corpses left inside out
At the base
Of thick gnarled trunks
Reeking of stomach acid
A dead give away
To their daylight haunts

Slow blinking eyes
On a swiveling head
Reflect golden wisdom
For anything willing
To embrace the lessons
Of unruffled Buddha’s
Understanding
Death is as critical
As taking that first
Leap of faith
From your nest