Bush Veldt Nights Poem by Daleen Enslinstrydom

As the last hours of the day dwindle
twilight dims the bush-veldt sky,
sun beetles silence themselves
in recognition of the night.

A guinea fowl prepares to nest,
birds screech and call
while they descend to their nests
in Acacia trees that has become shadows
when the sun sets
like a huge soap bubble
that vanishes behind the horizon.

All around the waterhole animals do gather
for their last drink of the night,
while the colour of the sky changes
to a scarlet red
before the night pulls its veil
over the last light of the day.

Somewhere a jackal is crying
and the sound of a lion‘s roar
brings fear to those gathered around the waterhole
as a hyena answers with a mocking laughter.

Everywhere the night is awakening
and from a tree an owl calls out to the night.
While the night becomes darker,
the moon hangs over everything
like a big shimmering plate
and stars do dangle
as if you can pluck them from the sky,

two hands meet each other
as if to confirm
that this world has a life-cycle of its own
of which you are not a part
but where you are able to enter
for only a moment of time
while nature and its events does continue
and all you are left with
is a kind of photo memory
of time spent in the bush-veldt.