Big horizons, with nothing to distract the mind.

I look at the lioness and wonder what she thinks.

Lion thoughts of cover for stalking,

How a great plain leaves her exposed to the sight of her prey.

She doesn’t care what I think.

I love the grass, a waving sea of green or gold

Waving lushly, singing its own song of blades, and wind and seeds

The story of the small things that live their lives on the plain,

never visible above the grass,

told over a camp fire, or never told.

The sky usually so big and blue and clear,

Edged with life bringing clouds,

making the sun gleam at angles,

like physical bands, yet still only light.

Dawn or dusk, Africa holds the secrets

To life and death

Inextricably linked on the plains of gold

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