AFRICAN DAWN:
As the milky moon, Madonna of the night, snuggles
down to rest beneath the misty mountain blanket, the warrior sun of the
universe stretches his arms slowly, testing his strength against the still new
& tender day. I observe this miracle of life from a distance, tentatively
testing, tasting, touching all before me. the old man wrapped in aeons of
wrinkles & a grey blanket just as old, sits on his haunches rubbing his
brown crepe hands together, warming his soul over an ancient smokey fire, a
fire whose flames warm millions or just
him in this old, tired continent. The old man´s hair is as white as the under
belly of a new born eland & his gaze almost the same translucency, but not
his heart, which knows too much. Warrior sun grows in stature, & the world
takes on a rosy glow. The hippo yawns, rippling the still silky mauve water of
the Okavango. The crocodile glides silently through hope-coloured reeds, not
wanting a bad name yet, not wanting to rob the day of her quiet dignity, still
so tender. The lion smiles a gentle smile at the grazing impala who knows she
is safe because the night has past, & the lion has feasted. The shrike strikes
the first worm; the eagle pierces the wet glass river & claims the life of
the day´s first fish. The dove coos, & the mamba still slumbers in the
branch of his thorn tree, under the watchful eye of the camouflaged leopard
skulking in the leaves above him. The elephant sips the cool muddy water
through his straw trunk before the warrior above turns his water hole into molten
lead. The giraffe reaches into the heaven kissed tree tops to nibble at the dew
quenched leaves. The mother with the sleepy-eyed Picinnini shawled to her warm
back, bends & sings, sings & bends, while preparing the breakfast of Africa,
porridge in the three legged cauldron, the food that starts & ends the African
day. The night has gone, the day has begun. the cool smokey mist disappears,
& as the warrior sun grows in the sky, the scorching, burning, searing,
cruel son of his heat beats down on the dusty thorn & scrubby plains,
another African dawn ends, giving birth to yet another African day.
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