Poems by Donna O'Connell
We at the wheel in a spell of wandering amongst a whorl of wildebeests and zebras
The cubs crouch pounce practice. Above the mother leopard liesalong a limb of spreading baobab tree.
A backdrop of zebras carping,a chirring of cicadas heard from my perch.
In thick black grass a creature, petite and crumpled, drops then rises wet and wobbly.
Under the cool of acacia a muscled cheetah and two fat cubs
Bald heads plunged into carcass, cackling rattling hissing cacophony.
The lion came to my room, almost. Morning revealed her prints, large toe pads next to the ebony poles that hefted our tent above dry grass.
When wildebeests and zebras lose four out of five young on the great migration
Thomas was handsome as his long slim rifle. Anti-poachingsharpshooter, his charm was alarming.
Morning charmed by a plethora of big cats. Two males, five females, seven nearly full-grown young.
