The King of the Safari (day 157)

Wild wildebeests join formation
Crush the dust under panic’d hooves
Leave the grassland for the hole
Snort and grunt, territorial games

The zebras, like the wildebeests
In their striped uniforms
And rebellious mane, graze
The wild grasslands they graze

Vultures, with their crooked necks
Search the landscape, far and wide
For fresh kills, or hungry lions
With them follow smaller scavengers

The elephants, in their scattered herds
With the cutest young
Spray themselves, in the hot noon sun
Or roll, roll around in the mud

When the trees are green
We find the giraffes, tall and lean
Searching the top branches
For the choicest of leaves

The king of the safari, we all know
Roars the loudest in his territory
Claims his space, claims his clan
Guards his disciples from a shady grove

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