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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.

 © Philip Knight 2018