The Night Veld

Outside on a spread of lawn, behind the fishpond, dinner with Grandfather. Tender pepper thighs and a splash of water; a table of reminded wisdom. Pockets of cropped moonlight break like lamps on a wall. And then nature disappears, the last whispers in the night veld as the dogs’ snarl at snakes, tension and profanity, my brother an instant memory.

national service,
his name was Garth Henderson,
a single bullet.