The red sun is dark over ‘the great white place’,
as rhino and tembo play truth or dare.
Across the yellow water while plovers referee
the sighs and camera clicks mean that someone’s there.
Soundtrack surreal, we sit on a wooden bench,
inhale the dust, feed the head.
Hear hyenas laugh deep into the night
at your amorous liaison, ‘neath that sun so red.
Near the mopane plains that stretch for countries
we cross the border, heading towards Ghanzi.
Throw away tomatoes, pass a million purple trees
in a flat land, brushed bush, rolling carefree.
Until a new world wakes in a new wet dawn,
the water an oasis, you can literally breathe it in.
Camping on an island hear the lion roar
distant as dreams that we’re already within.
From the collection ‘Mixed Messages’ by Dave Lewis