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A taita falcon,
driven by hunger,
or the scenic beauty,
from its hidden perch,
spreads,
its expansive wings,
it scans,
the,
numerous landmarks,
the,
smoking thundering waterfalls,
in their fives,
in their tens,
whose puffs,
turn from snow white,
to rainbow,
leafy green,
an awesomeness,
distracts it,
from prey-hunting,
she cannot,
keep this to herself,
weighed,
down,
with heaviness,
the herald,
had to be shared,
down,
to our meeting she came,
but,
being cantankerous,
haughty,
much,
like an attention seeking turkey,
many,
a fragile limbs and tails,
were stepped on,
in,
telling this intelligent story of awe,
pride and vanity masked,
the beautiful scenic narratives,
that,
were it not for toe-stepping,
our reactions,
would not be biased,
negatively,
ire-filled,
for the tale,
of the waterfalls,
in their fives,
in their tens,
thick puffs of smoke,
with thunderous rebounds,
is one we loved,
to listen to,
the teller,
had a good message,
the chameleon,
in desperation,
for limb,
tail were now sore,
warned the falcon thus:
‘however haughty,
the skies,
the meal and bounty,
are set on earth.’
