The Four in the African Summer

The Four in the African Summer

The summer sun beat down,
four warriors watched the trees;
they could not see what waited there
or stirred beneath the leaves.

Two walked at the front,
two followed close behind;
they bore their chief in silence,
with burial on their minds.

His resting place lay past the trees,
where old stones marked the ground;
they had been sent to bury him
before the sun went down.

A snake came slithering across
the track along their way;
his smile was sly, his voice unkind,
beneath the burning day.

“Where are you going, warriors,
on this warm summer’s day?
What brings you through my forest?
Tell me where you stray.”

“We’re on a mission,” they replied,
“I’m sorry, we can’t say.”
“I’ll tag along and follow you,
wherever you go today.”

The sun beat down upon them,
the air grew close and still;
they wondered, “Should we carry on,
or rest beside the hill?”

They knew the snake was sly,
no secret would he keep;
he swallowed birds and people’s words,
then hid them buried deep.

They pointed east and told him
their path bent by the stream;
he hurried down the false trail
while they slipped out unseen.

The snake soon found their true tracks
and knew they’d led him wrong;
he vowed they’d meet again one day,
but not before too long.

At last they reached the burial ground
and laid their chief to rest;
their mission now was finished,
their journey passed its test.

For now, they said goodbye
and hoped they’d never meet;
the sun went down behind the trees,
their task complete, their footsteps ceased.