There is no mistaking you,
Standing poised by the jeep, surrounded by fractured light
as the sun bounces off metal and glass,
Your head thrown back, emitting sounds, that I cannot hear,
Although I am imagining, the infectious
booming laughter, rolling from your lips.
As I move closer, you shift, showing
a chistled profile, under the blue baseball cap,
The chunky solidity of your form in shorts and blue shirt,
legs planted apart the golfers stance even at ease.
I walk quietly towards you, but some sixth sense,
Causes you to turn,and I am caught
mesmerised. By the brightness if your gaze,
Those glorious grey eyes flecked with gold
Dominant your tanned face. Drawing me into your world,
I see the colours, the colours of the African day,
Reflected in the honey toned clarity of your skin,
The vividness of your eyes, the silver of the
stubble glinting on your chin, the crows feet
wrinkles, mirroring the drought parched land.
Firm lips. Corners kinked into the hint of a smile,
Open, to speak words in accentless English,
Always a suprise given your antecedents,
There is a hint of croaky gravelliness in your diction,
Some harshness evident, registering impatience.
You turn back, then lope off with long strides, lithe as a big cat,
Your controlled movements, denote a man of action,
How can you be defined?
Your charm, friends, words, the books you read, the inner man?
Your impatience, impetuousness.
All set upon a background of the African sky.