On Manoeuvres Poem by Gert Strydom

The nature of love is dazed, unknown
like a advance into enemy territory,
behind enemy lines

where you skirmish, reconnoitre the terrain
move from thicket to thicket,
leopard crawl, catwalk

through stretches of open ground
taking the risk, always at the ready
and in the enemy’s midst

loiter in a dense bush
while watching like a hawk, relaxed
and half stupefied at the relative safety

smelling the cigars of the passing guards,
hearing them talking and walking around
without even knowing that you are there

and in the darkness to crawl back, walk miles
crossing streams and rivers
to the safety of your own camp

and in the following detail
to return to the same enemy positions,
you find the way easier, more well known.

[Reference: Map Reference by Douglas Livingstone.]