Savannah-Zimbabwe Graduate

Plucked i am, From the flowering mopane By the mother of the mischievous ones, Only to be reduced To a reproving stick. Safe and secure i am, Or rather i think i am In my seemingly fortified pod. Later disposed into the arid savannah Where the hooves of migrating buffaloes Forcibly crush me out Seeding me into the infertile sands. Scorched by the tropical heat Patiently i wait, For the refreshing summer drizzles Giving back the hope of life. Braving the blazing heat I struggle out of the soil. So that i can start my own. Facing the new environs with the naivety Of a chick just out of a shell Trying to stand on my own I become food of antelopes Returning back to mortality. Learnmore Nyoni 2014 (c)