African Plains

On these arid roasting plains, a virtual frying pan For beasts to live they must survive on anything they can Another bug collecting dung, enjoying foetid goodness May perhaps have much to teach my fellow starving man Often poop quickly rots so tastes uniquely vile It must be freshly dropped and not lay there for a while But when the grass is history and rain becomes a mystery The king of beast himself would eat a rancid crocodile But every year the rain on which we’re helplessly dependent Shall fill the empty river bed where hippos are attendant Herds of antelope come out where lush green grass again shall sprout Lions muster now on plains: quietly resplendent But there a shortage everywhere of places we can live Property developers do things we can’t forgive And builders can’t deny encouraging financial gain They can sell their houses here, if it doesn't rain 4 August 2021 For: Alpha Lines Poetry Contest Sponsor: Joseph May