After a couple of glasses of Stormhoek
We talk, late at night, with the moon
We tell her of our game drive, the rhinos
and a close encounter with a baboon
on the beach of a dried up lagoon.
Arebati grins back a pearly smile.
We don’t want to go back to that isle,
The tame and unadventurous life style,
To cruise through safe, neat fields in our cars,
Not risky night-time game rides, while
The sky is freckled with southern stars.
With the goggos and shongalolos. Though soon
We will be leaving, for now we’ll speak to the moon.