In A Moleskin Glove Rift Valley night grasps us suddenly, softly - TopicsExpress



          

In A Moleskin Glove Rift Valley night grasps us suddenly, softly dark as a moleskin glove, diamond pinpricks scintillating in its palm. Heat has vanished with the sun, while night-calls, primitive, throb the cooling air. "Listen!" hisses Anthony, leaning on the jeep. Slowly, hushed but remorselessly creeps something through the knee-high grass. The stink of wildness wafts across us on the breeze that cools. "Listen!" Hearing strains to pierce the darkness. A starving moon silvers through the glove to silhouette against pale grass black shapes converging on our scent. I flick on headlights and twinkling as the sky, a myriad of eyes stares back, halting startled in their tracks: zebra and kudu, hartebeests and water buck, docile as domestic cattle now our lights have fixed them, blood-chilling as cheetahs in the dark. By C.J. Heyworth
Posted on: Wed, 31 Jul 2013 15:58:35 +0000

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