Listen closely, you can hear the faintest sound.
Whirring of feathers as the buzzards gather round,
Off in the distance where the waterhole is found,
In the Kalahari Desert and its baking summer ground.
Atop a kopje sits a leopard lazily surveying the terrain.
Hoping to spring upon a springbok on the grassy plain.
They all come to the waterhole until next season's rain,
And 'tis here the slow or weak ones likely will be slain.
An African story played out countless times in history.
Africa the Beautiful, continent of constant mystery.
A place that never changes from what it used to be.
Forever rivers and mountains of glorious consistency.
Cradle of mankind, resplendent countless sunlit days.
Africa will grab your heart in a thousand different ways.
Nile, Mother of Rivers and Congo where Gorilla plays.
Mountains Of The Moon, nearby the Wildebeest graze.
America I love you but Africa lives deep inside my brain.
Your amber waves of grain - against the Serengeti Plain.
Inside my mind, multiple marvelous images ingrained,
And a boisterous ebullience that cannot be contained.....
