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Monday, 29 August 2022

A Fortnight in the Wild: Chapter 17

 Interlude


For those of you weary of the death and destruction brought to you from Mother Nature (last chapter here), well, here is a piece of prose, kindly donated by that master of the spoken word, written from somewhere up high... Nick Robb. 

Hopefully this will brighten up your day before the next episode of blood and guts drops onto your reading device with a 'beep' tomorrow morning...


The Bloody Mara


Every morning
as I sleep
my phone gives a little
electronic beep

And over breakfast
I love to hear
an update on the slaughter
down in Tanzania

Sent by……and yes
I know it sounds weird
Joy Adamson reborn free
but with a straggly beard

Or the stuff of which
legends are made
Daktari with a camera
and a hearing aid

Who walks his or her days
under African skies
alongside Annick
and her tsetse flies

That gloriously expert 
safari wife
she knows all the words 
to “The circle of life”

How I’ve loved the photos
of beautiful birds
dusted with such eloquent 
and sonorous words 

But in every blog
this is always when 
it’s back to the “bloody” river
here we go again

Where basking crocs ponder
well what could be finer
we run a Michelin flippin’ starred
swim through diner

Awaiting the world’s 
largest moveable feast 
of three million
suicidal wildebeest

Cried a half eaten calf
“If only…..We had a bridge”
cackled a crocodile back
“And if only…..We had a fridge”

Whilst watching the locals 
on each other dine
muttered Phil “Did I hear mention
of a bottle of wine?”

“But don’t anybody worry 
I’ll be taking it slow”
as his pith helmet overflowed
with South African Pinot

Washed down with Amarula 
now he’s clearly drunk
just have a read of his ramblings
concerning an elephant’s trunk

Nick Robb


Next Chapter: On the Seventh Day

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