Hazel McKay's "Tiger" takes you on a quiet boat ride through a mangrove forest, and it works a bit like a slow reveal. For most of the poem, almost nothing happens. Water flows between the trees, birds chirp, light flickers, and the speaker scans the forest and finds "only trees." The simple, calm lines make the reader settle into the same unhurried pace as the boat.
Then the poem turns on the word "But." The short lines that follow, with "If you're lucky" and "maybe," build suspense bit by bit: first a sound, then a stripe of orange, then something coming closer. The tiger appears only in the very last line, standing alone, which makes the moment feel sudden and powerful.
The speaker seems patient and watchful, full of quiet excitement and a little awe. The mood begins peaceful and still, then shifts to hushed anticipation, as though you should hold your breath so you don't scare the tiger away.