Savannah Ink
This poem bares its teeth: a hyena,
laughter breaking in jagged bursts,
circling the margins,
menace felt in scuffling shadows.
From the dust it stirs,
half-laughter, half-watch,
a shuffle of shadows
breaking into frisk
rising upright: a meerkat,
eyes darting across horizons,
paws quick in sudden scurry,
a hesitant vigil before burrowing.
Between circling and scurry,
menace and play intertwine,
scarfing fragments into chorus
stretching across Savannah plains.
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