radha at the water-hole

radha at the water-hole

through the air comes the image of eyes, the electric feeling of
being watched, anticipatory tension that raises
small, elegant, sensory-filled receptors on the back of her neck
listening, attuned to the signals of her body, she stops, dead still

quiet descends, she holds her breath, alert, guarded, yet with
awareness amplified by the charge in the air
shivering, she turns slowly, slowly willing her body to
create imperceptible movements of each muscle
one muscle after another moving bone and tissue
surreptitiously crouching, hidden from view in the long grass

circling the locus of the vibrations coming across the savanna
the still, un-breathing predator wrapped in the assurance
his skill and conquered prey give him the credence to bear
he remains vigilant, focused on the ethereal spirit-body
draped in the garments left behind as decoy, as bait for the subterfuge

bare belly-down, creeping, breathing in the tension of each movement,
the high grass parting softly, silkily under each breast,
caressing each nipple, heightening the excitement, as she
advances, drawn closer until the hunter, transformed, becomes the hunted

07 September 2004