Waiting for the Leopard
She is born of Africa.
Celeste, daughter of the Karoo
Grown honey golden, strong on open fields
Below the thick star spangled southern sky.
Believes there is a leopard in the mountain
Saw, shows, its spectral web cam image;
Understands the springbok prank
For no reason better than, they can.
She’ll sense, spot, name a line of eland
Beyond few thousand fynbos metres;
Has faced, heard, felt the lion's roar
Tingle in her every cell, naked
Passion stirring in the resonance––Africa!
Africa, flowing in her veins; she
Seeks its glory in the scat of each new day,
In its remains, haunted, resigned to the frustration––
Ag! We must accept what is . . . go on.
But yaah, I'm still waiting, longing for the leopard.