East Africa

Lands of bounty, yet also so barren red soil so pungent and full of life if the monsoon's rains don't fall a veritable dust bowl you become great herds teem over your plains constantly moving following the rains behind them a land picked clean only a few tender shoots showing withering and dying in the midday heat only to be saved by a short down pour sleek well fed pride of lions roam soon their time of plenty over unlike the herds they stay waiting for the next herd of animals to come the giant crocs in the river now well fed it could be a year before they feast again all this and so much more means, spellbound I reflect on African shores that hold close my heart with love and even tenderness for this great land