Attenborough and the Giant Egg
An island’s evidence [pitted – rimrose]
lies strewed between deserts & roads –
as if scattered wide by petulant thugs/
They infer hellacious avians feeding on
everything! – held in scythe-sized talons
& other such asinine stories trolled to
travellers waving tourist-green dollars/
Their eggs – hacked to shards [almost
aged vases] now a cracked paradox of
parts – too widely cast to dig up quick
answers for Sir David Attenborough or
others with questions [& audiences to
thrill]/ Madagascar remains a blast for
khaki-shorteds & battered Landrovers
whilst fady fables unsettle local heads
who will whisper elephant bird stories
on & on [Fear was man’s earliest mace
but giant eggs filled his ravenous face]