john coldwell (18th June 1948 / Sheffield UK)
A Day in Africa
By day we search the hidden veldt,
In fear of what we’ll meet,
The night performs it’s scorpion dance,
Beneath our victim feet.
Looms vast the tuskers silhouette,
And chill the jackal’s bark,
We laugh at giraffes circus like,
All set for Noah’s ark.
Beware the invisible crocodile,
We have come upon too soon,
And the hippo’s absent minded yawn,
Which swallowed our afternoon.
We saw the jaundiced fever trees,
Where tiny demons swarm,
And recoiled from a centipede,
Which offered far less harm.
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