Out of the Eggs of Ants

In the twilight and the twittering dawn

My life goes flitting like a spotted fawn.

A scent of something stalks the tall, dry grass-

The fragrance of the rain-I come; I pass.

Acacia thorn and zigzag lightning rend

And scratch their whistling way into the wind.

Ant-castles silhouette the fire-swept plains

Where tawny kings in limbo shake their manes.

The clouds collapse; musk mixes with the breeze.

Birds dart into the hard-knot of the trees.

A vulture's wing is passed across the sun.

Blood stirs to surly muscle on the run.

The lion scans the landscape as it lies,

His dignity indifferent to the flies.