Upon a will not of my own
My eyes lured westward
To the settling rustic clouds
Spread wide-winged across the sky
And from an open vortex came
The leader's shrill reply.

The ducks of Sabie braced the winds up high
Their wishbone flight kept in harmony
Ignited a compelling thrill
Deep within my half conscious eye
For yet again I listen into memory.

The days spent at Sabie might have gone by
But these alluring creatures pass here now
Stirring a hidden intimate thought
Which grew from Sabie's twilight river banks.

Where unattended grass abounds in profusion
The blades tall from country breath and
Wide pastures naked to the windy storms.
Against a reddening sun and a blackening bridge
Which overhung the ice-cold waters,
Those ducks bleated their melancholic cry
Like a marker for a question why.

Their passage seemed a continuous dream
Their throats resounding the restless stream
Sabie, a shelter to beautiful liberty
That reverberates against green clad mountains
Where heaven unites with a shy still spiritual grandeur

I watched the haunting waifs wander through the sky
Like a ghost refection against my sub-conscious mind.
A holier feeling, as a church spire lost in mists.
Of a rainy day, yearned within me.
Their swaying wings cast shadows in my heart
Their beauty and their vagabond souls
Provoke a thought of sublime content.
That evasive mood on which poets' conjure
A strength of divine sorrow and subdued delight.

While the river's rhythmic pulse beat over the rocks
And in the darkness seemed a sight of slithering glass
With the tall trees mirrored in its sun-stained depth
A subtle yearning reached within my soul.
An urge evolved to save this temporary while
And rest within this insulated haven
Where to hear the ducks invokes an embracing joy
To be a limb, a fringe, a relative of this deity-like company.

Present falls too soon on shallow ears
And the ducks of Sabie, might they be
Lose their reminiscent shadows to the dark horizon