Snare
Where guinea fowl
nest against the cornfields
and I sometimes saw pheasants,
just on the other side of the tributary,
day after day I found
snares made from fishing gut,
or wire
that was destroying constantly
and I was very angry
when one morning
I found a small duiker there,
with a leg
into which the wire were wringing
and I liberated that small antelope.
poem by Gert Strydom
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