Savanna

I silence the radio, lay pen to rest,

leave my desk for the window; look

at the savanna: metamorphic, mercurial,

a wave of leaves, goodbye

to the outgoing season. Fickle

full fleeting moments

create ferruginous soils, the land

is on the change,

her countenance takes on a new look

in a dull deficient, dry season

like an artist playing with colours.

I yield to the inevitable,

face life’s stormy challenges

as I leave the motherland.

© Josephine Du-Boulay 2001