Poems
Savuti
The elephants stand like monuments at the watering hole. Less water, more mud, yet they drink and bathe, content; the watering holes never quite give out. Later, in a circle, as if performing some ancient ritual, the mammals shade themselves under a single acacia tree. This is Savuti, the elephant camp, where elephants trumpet half the night just outside our tent; hyenas laugh, tearing at their prey. I dream of Stonehenge and then lie awake wondering how many impala will die before morning on the savanna.
On Seeing Lions for the First Time
Darting Fishers
Haiku
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