The Safari

The golden dust, the scent of coming rain,

The rising sun on the vast and open plain.

A canvas painted in ochre, green, and gold,

A story ancient, and so bravely told.

The engine hums, a low and patient sound,

As the jeep goes searching for hallowed ground.

A silhouette of giraffes, tall and serene,

A living image on a wild and endless scene

The mighty lions, a sun-soaked tawny pride,

Hidden in the grasses where their instincts guide.

A leopard's shadow, elusive and so rare,

Sliding through the thicket with a quiet, watchful stare.

The trumpeting echo of the elephant's call,

As families wander, moving free and tall.

A wildebeest stampede, a blur of motion swift,

A thundering promise, a primal, moving gift.

And when the twilight paints the sky anew,

With fiery hues of crimson and deep blue,

The campfire crackles, a low and steady glow,

With jackals barking in the dark, and stars that grow.

The stillness settles, vast, deep and wide,

The wildness stirring, with nowhere left to hide.

A memory carved of breath, dust and sight,

Of Africa's magic, in the deep of night.