Poetry

They come sneaking in the tambookie,
in the buffalo grass, past acacia trees
and linger for moments at the swampy marsh,
the birds suddenly get silent and even the insects,
when they relax, light cigarettes and smoke,
as they linger for long moments laughing
and I can smell the stinking sour of their sweat,
when my heart beats anxiously,
brown ibises fly up scolding,
impalas in a herd burst away
and they walk straight into our ambush
with AK-47 rifles hanging as without importance,
somewhere a long green snake rustles
and when my LMG comes alive I loose all of my fear.

[Reference: LMG = light machinegun.]