Serengeti sights


At the end of my last post, I mentioned that I’d be away for a fortnight. And quite a fortnight it was, as we travelled in Tanzania. But I’ve learnt now that travel and blogging don’t really go together, so I gave up trying to do both. Apologies, then, for my silence, which I now make up for by posting a couple of lovely pictures from our holiday. Naturally, in Tanzania, that included a safari, where we were very fortunate to spot a group of about 70 Spaniards. Our guide, Joseph, assured us this was quite rare. I managed to get close enough to take a picture of them in the early evening, when they gather for a cocktail, the females wearing pretty dresses and the males trying to impress them with witty remarks.


Spaniards, said Joseph, are of the European genus, which includes a multitude of other members, some of them quite uncommon. You’d have to be lucky, for example, to come across a Finn in Serengeti, and in the few days we were there we didn’t see one. But the group of Spaniards, one of the most endearing members of the European family, more than made up for that. Here they are engaged in behaviour typical of the European species, taking pictures of the sunset.

Sunday Poem: Waves


Real poets are brave – poetry’s difficult! A while back I was named by Fading Shadow in a challenge to describe a sound, so I thought, why not a poem? Especially as we were spending the night in a tent on Sazilay Beach, where the only sound was of waves – what better topic? Well, it took me three weeks and I’m still dissatisfied. Maybe I’ll stick to nonsense – much easier!

Shall I say they crash and thunder? Here, tonight, it is inaccurate.

The soft persistence of their motion

Long transcribed in sand and root and stone,

Each gathering and collapse a different breath,

Scrolls upon the shore in Sazilay.

What of words like sigh and murmur? Almost apt, but still inadequate,

Lending false intent to this unfeeling mission,

Patterned bond of moon and sea and strewn

Dissolving foam, sinking back to earth

Here upon the beach in Sazilay.

We know this sound: raw religion, human song, a quest for intimate

Design in randomness and undisturbed attraction,

Heave and swell, an endless back and forth,

Stroking soft the slope of Sazilay.