3 October 2019

Herding, a poem by Rethabile Masilo

There’s a moment when
all tires of the sun
—every leg drained, raw
at the sinew,
earth weary upon itself.

Near anthills
a boy with a plaid blanket
drives goats—and they show joy,
the goats, and ring bells,
his dog trotting beside him
with the red tie of its tongue

Against hills mothers sing
on the way of how immortality
knows the sound of someone
struggling up a well, to the level
of the living,
lifts him, her,

boy and dog asleep
at the deep end of a hut.

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