To an audience of watchful leaning birch, a shy sangoma
Spun sweetness in a trice.
Crunchy underfoot and peripherally beautiful,
There rolled off many worthwhile opportunities for her tongue,
Far more than words should comfortably tell,
Against its oral canvas.
Enkindling dinner’s hard-sought drupes,
Her cozy cote’s chimenea arrested rogue sparks;
Splits inside made dangerously flexible
Concealed themselves under the growing smoke of felicity exhaled.