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.