Thursday, April 9, 2015

On the Serengeti

we watch a lioness charge
to guard an old kill from jackals
and raw-necked buzzards
though she has long since had her fill.
As others photograph the scene,
you and I hold hands, knowing well
the desperate defense
of what is dead.

By Sarah Russell

3 comments:

Unknown said...

It took me a moment to absorb the meaning. I have a feeling that this poem will be visiting me again throughout the next few days. Thank you, Sarah.

Sarah Russell said...

Thanks, Maureen.

Anonymous said...

Stunning! It wasn't until I'd finished reading that the full impact hit me...and left me breathless. Beautiful, Sarah.

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