Poem

Sharks, dolphins and gannets are gathering.

The winter feast. Not long to wait.

A billion sardines

will coast along soon, up the Indian Ocean

on their way from colder seas.

 

A bat eared fox decides its time for lunch,

ambles along to the crater lake,

dives in among the marching swarm of flamingos.

Too massed to get away, the pencil legs of one

are pierced by the fox’s teeth.

 

Wildebeest and zebra spread across the plains.

For lions its hardly a search.

There they are, munching lazily on the grass

while great cats melt into the ground

and flatten their ears.

 

There is no safety in numbers.

Numbers just tell the hungry where to look.

They’ve built their billboard (Restaurant now open)

so some defence like running fast

or swirling in deceptive masses helps a bit

but travelling in numbers won’t do.