On the Savannah

16 Nov

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On the Savannah

By L. Stewart Marsden

On the Savannah
Death stalks and waits
In every field of grass
Under each watering hole
For the unwary
Or the weak
Or those left behind;

The kind of strife that daily
Rises in the east and never sets;

Jaws and teeth led by smell and struggle and blood

Yet amply gives and hides in such a way
That prey pray for another day
To continue
And thrive
On the Savannah.

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