Light in the water, and dark shapes on the horizon.
Rumblings in the night, and the smell of wild sage.
The whisper of the Chobe River,
And the gnarled silhouettes of mopane trees.
The racing of your heart when you spot lion tracks in the sand,
And the laughter in your throat while you watch an elephant swim.
Dust in the air, in your hair, in your mouth.
Scorpio and the Southern Cross shining clear and bright as diamonds.
The pure, cloudless sky of dry season,
Painted with every color as the sun rises and sets.
The leap of an impala.
The lifted tail of a warthog.
The flicking ears of a hippo in the water.
The lazy basking of a crocodile.
The distant lights of Kasane on the horizon.
The little pink buildings in all the villages.
The crackle of the campfire when you add another log,
And the hiss and smoke when you put it out.
For me, Botswana was just seven days in the wild,
Seven days that I will remember for the rest of my life.