On A Spoor In The Desert Poem by Gert Strydom

The blue sky was azure without any cloud
with the hot sun throwing its bright white light
in the afternoon before the coming of night
and the calls of small birds were somewhat loud

as if the vultures were mocking me
while the night suddenly did fall and was black
and the bright evening star I did see
trying to find the Southern Cross to set track

while the desert was stretching everywhere,
my comrades thirsty as never before
with enemy tracks just running here and there,
as if they were going on forever more,

in the moonlight we followed the spoor austere
like ghosts wandering about without any fear.