The Kudu on the Boulder

 

I live in the Kalahari,

the aroma of dates and rice

drench arid soot in safari.

The parched gumbo makes your skin dice.

The sun like fury strikes down all,

Sun is life to each animal.

 

I am a Kudu with antlers,

that reach the lapis lazuli skies

pointed as swords of crusaders.

I am safe, with kin sentries;

each one is a gift by a saint.

Then a crackle is heard with restraince.

 

Here comes the leopard with evil,

my kin jumped and guarded themselves.

Morning came and the grass tastes ill,

the day repeats with pain in sleeves.

My hair in the way, makes me wake,

at least each day a choice I make.

 

But truly I am a boulder,

lonely and lofty as one too,

but foolish Kudus climb over,

than go around the dew.

Alas, they don't know, rocks can notice.

I am waiting to make the choice.