The Kalahari

The Kalahari Kneaded clay Form creases The thirst of desert blinding dust and wind Collide of wave and tide Females carry the tribe Their large flappy ears Fan them cool Muddy pools Their sunshade and lemonade Their long trunk, their utensil and instrument The herd graze on green bushes Barge their way through thick trees and weeds Making way For grand and small Giant footprints and dung mark their tracks It’s dung a beetle’s nest and feast The labor of a mother’s womb Trumpets sound to celebrate Prey to an open field Darkness cast upon its young For it is done Hearts pump and Trunks join to commemorate Rumblings from afar detect danger They form a protective block around the calves Their ears on alert Their trunk and feet test the waters They wait til it passes They lock trunks to bond At the patience of the lions A son grieves it’s mom Guards over her corpse And leaves with the survived Blazing fires rise The earth crack The land is barren The river is drenched An underground stream arise They find relief All come to drink Marckincia Jean Free verse 07/28/19