When Leopard Walks

This story in its various forms was always a favorite, told by grizzled hunters to rapt young audiences around the campfires during my childhood days in Rhodesia. Watching the hardy Nama shepherds of Namaqualand Northern Cape, inspired this poem, which is actually not about the leopard at all but a twist on the Good Shepherd. Silent echoes of the daylight, crimson ripples, lilac sky, chasing sunbeams into twilight, over purpling mountains fly. Deep blue heavens, silver pinpricks, embryonic stars arise. Fire-flies, erratic wing-flicks, bats and nightjars, phantom cries Mystic river, frogs are creaking crickets scream the night away. Jackals howl their eerie greeting stealing swift across the vlei. Lonely vigil, camp-fire warming Herd-boy calms his restless flock midges from the marshes swarming slowly turns the stellar clock. Ghostly shadows of the tree-line, eagle owl calls deep “Voo, Voo”. River glinting bright in moonshine, burbles hushed as falling dew. From the kopjies, soft comes Leopard. Stalks, unseen, his dark domain. Hungry, scenting sheep and shepherd, easy meal shall he obtain. Clicking hooves upon the shingle, shuffle, scuffle, muffled groan. Panicked cattle push and mingle, Duke of darkness claims his own. Fire-brand wielding, shouting, yelling, Herd-boy dances, strikes the ground. Showers of sparks and flames compelling, Leopard shies and turns around. Shepherd stokes his fires expiring, till the great flames roar and blaze. Leopard to his lair retiring, blood-lust smolders in his gaze. Silver river, frogs are creaking crickets scream the night away. Ageing mountains, mute and fleeting where Baboons bark from the grey. Stars are fading, new day’s dawning, golden Sun bursts into sight, chasing moonbeams into mourning, silent echoes of the night . . .