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As Sufa's silver-amber eye
With stately silent dignity
Traversed the court of former kings
He saw his visage in the pond
And he smiled.

He shed his peaceful silver light
On wide-trunked ancient baobabs
And ever flowing seas of grass,
Upon the dying and the born
With equality.

A huntress speaking gentle words
Assured her children of her love
And met their glances with the eyes
That only joy and beauty see
In a cub.

The milk that flowed from deep inside
The cubs with satisfaction drew
With soft contented murmuring
And paws that felt the quiet pulse
Of her life.

-- John Burkitt

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