Taking pictures, taking time,
Flying, hoping for the perfect shot.
Making ready the digital magic,
Clicking, spluttering, lens, wide eyed,
Bushy browed, bright blue bucket,
Self pity, enveloped, pushed into corners,
Flittered away on an indian summer breeze.
Writing reports of the African trip,
Seen no longer as a safari,
More a crisis of illusion.
Breathing locomotive smoke, sideways facing,
Always mentoring the troops,
To take themselves somewhere remote,
Like Antarctic.
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