Eguswini Is Where He Is Restored

a man clad in creased khaki shorts and a shirt,
his eyes engrossed in the arresting thickness
of a tree, with its lovely luxuriant leaves,
barks and branches, his attention is seized
and swayed by the denseness of a forest,
and its various shrubberies and prairies
and vagaries of shades, scents and sounds;
a cute camera is snuggled on his chest,
insects, birds and all things wild in bounty
in attendance, in action and holding sway;
the man seems to be unbound and aired
and exhilarated by nature in its purest form,
an inhalation of happiness in a healing haven,
for nature nurtures and nuzzles a suffering soul,
nature sweeps away a sickness with its sparkle
nature releases, relaxes and revives spirits
he calls it Eguswini, a wonderful woodland
it is a sanctuary of saneness and freshness
maybe he is a naturalist, a birder, a hunter?
it could be he is saying birding is a bright shot?
the cicadas and birds are humming harmonies
perhaps he is an alert hearer, an observer?
happy birds, flowers and trees won't harm him,
all they seek is coexistence, pacific protection
possibly he is a birdwatcher, a conservationist?
without doubt nature is exultant and fragrant
its touch is priceless, profuse, pristine and perfect