The Coming of the Thunderstorm

The Dance of Wild Woman

In Dedication to the Poets of Afrikaans Literature

Shyly she peers over the mountains
Her eyes demure
She laughs softly in her throat
From afar she beckons with one hand
Her beads shake
and her bangles glitter
gently she calls
She invites the winds to dance
For the fields are wide
And the bridal feast is lavish
The bison gather on the prairie
Their nostrils flare
and they swallow
the wind
They bow their heads to see
her delicate tracks in the sand
Small animals under the ground
hear the sound of her footsteps
And they draw near
To join in the dance
And her beads shimmer and shake
And her arm bands flash
in the fading sun
She steps down from the heights
And she spreads her veil
far and wide
And the breath of the wind grows
still
The feast has begun

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