On Wildebeests

The acidic cold
of the Masai Mara
at dawn.

Little groups of wildebeests.
Huddling,
chatting quietly,
limbering up,
stretching,
yawning,
contemplating the day ahead.

As the sun rises.
Strolling,
trotting,
galloping,
breaking into
a bit of a stampede.

A psychiatrist might ask
if they're running away from their responsibilities.
But in fact they're running away
from animals
who like to feast

on wildebeests.


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