The Waterberg Mountains Of My Youth Poem by Daleen Enslinstrydom

Far and as wide as the eye can see
lays the valleys, between the acacia trees,
the rock faces and the hillocks
of the Waterberg Mountains
where the aloes bloom like blazes of fire
and this is the place that my heart longs for,

where there is space for the leopard
to hide itself in the cracks of the rocks,
and where the Crocodile River flows
into small lakes where wildlife flourishes
and the sky is turned pink
when a flock of flamingos decent
to forage in the water
and the call of the fish eagle is heard
for many miles

and an array of animals does gather
around the waterhole,
and even a flock of guinea fowl
and the springbok yearlings jump and frolic
when they smell the rain
that is falling in the distance
and the sun lowers itself
beneath the escarpment
and the blazing colours are reflected on the water

and baboons roam everywhere
with the sentinel on its post
where it looks out for any danger
and the giraffe peeks through the camel-thorn tree
and a grey touraco calls out of the wild plum tree
and in the distance you can hear a jackal crying
and a hippopotamus wags its short tail
and spreads its dung to mark off its territory
and somewhat hidden a kudu bull coughs
while everywhere small groups of ostriches gather
while the males triple and parade in courtship

and a flock of egrets come to rest on a dried out tree
with both the sun and the moon appearing as their backdrop
and the twilight sets as a kind of miracle
while the day ends
and becomes a kind of survival

and when the sun disappears the moment is almost sacred
while the silence linger for moments
before a night-owl cries out
and the lights of the fireflies flicker
and I long to go back
to the Waterberg Mountains of my childhood days.