Name ID 814
Turner, Myles My Serengeti Years
Page Number: 079
Extract Date: 1948
Yes here I am in the bush again, rifles and tents and all
Settling back in the old routine, dawn and the early call.
The morning hunt and the midday rest and the walk at evenfall.
And every minute of every hour old friends come back to me
As the bush remakes its magic and the wild its witchery,
Everything I remembered and all as it used to be.
The leopard that crouched a-second a-snarl then vanished like a sulphur smoke.
The throb at the heart of the dead of night when the master lion spoke.
The snort and the crash and the thunder of hooves when the hidden buffalo broke.
The springing grace of the antelope, the deer with their gentle eyes,
The hundred songs of a hundred birds, small creatures and their cries.
These and the fortune of the chase and at last perhaps its prize.
All mine again - and the solitude, and the silent sunlit peace.
Comfort at heart and slow content, refreshment and release.
While day upon hourless day declares ‘thy mercies shall not ease’
Substitute cameras for guns.