Love the calm in the glory of lions.
Oh, a flung continent that begs for reckons.
Volatile air, agitated flocks, and dusty fife.
Since humanity's birth, lifeblood has stirs.
The city is chaotic and bustling with life,
It disrupts the acumen, causing inner strife.
As I get closer and closer to the city bosom,
Between suitable and improper, it's rife.
Hooves on the plains drumming out a rhythm.
In the thickets of the jungle, where lions schism.
Along sacred rivers, there is nothing but space.
A nation that consumes without leaving a minim.
Mambas return to the web in quest of a large place.
To nurse at a dynamic and fluctuating pace.
My magnificent lifeblood, O priceless African green.
Excellent crocodile eyes and needle-shaped face.
Written: May 21, 2022