She – The African Sun

As she sets, she casts aglow

The land so red

A land so old.

Many a man has passed her over,

With a mere glance

And even less thought

For she is a constant

Though ever changing beauty

As she warms the day through.

Without her there would be no day,

No warmth and no colouring

And toning of the African land.

There is no sight more beautiful

As she passes the torch to the moon

Lingering to make sure he understands

How to guard the ancient land

Whilst she sleeps for the night.

The sight she is whilst in mid-sky

Can bring a smile to anyone´s face

For who can frown at the African Sun

And of her fury, not be afraid.

Her fury is like a coin that spins

When she is content

Landing on heads or tails

Depending.

Her wrath has taken many forms

Of extreme heat and intense indifference

Both of which are uncomfortable

To a worshiper of her being.

She is as red as blood on a heated day

And as pink as candy floss on a dawn

And a few dusk's of choice.

Her favourite hue to challenge the blue

Is from the brightest yellow

To the dullest white.

She is the soul and mother

Of the continent that is Africa.

She is unique only to that land

With the open plains

And bold strong red sand.

It is where passion flares

And starts anew

From Good Hope´s Cape

To Timbuktu.