Noel:	Has this author been to Africa?
Gwen:	Who knows or cares? Let the poem speak for itself – ta heck with the author.
Noel:	I can't quite do that . . . each poem seems linked in countless way to its creator.

S e r e n g e t i S c e n e

High in the branches
of the Serengeti plain
where sun scorches earth
lizards rest on the bark of arcadia
waiting for insects to pass –

In a different world -
occupying the same space
giraffes nibble on tuluu flowers
moving across the plain.

As their tails swish
i hear a faint hiss
and the savannah explodes
in my nostrils.