Collaring The Elephant - Poem by Terry Dawson
Entranquiled by a darted potion
Upon his bushheld range,
The elephant's world is in slow motion
It seems almighty strange.
Presently he falls down in slumbers;
People rush to his side
For they would track him as he wanders
His range in easy stride.
And when his paraplegia clears,
He is enhanced by tech
For a transmitter now he wears
In collar round his neck.
And by the means of this device,
As all will surely guess
The bearings, when they're measured twice,
His whereabouts express.
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