When you see him       
Flip-flopping on those heaps of sands     
That have been his natural habitat
For tens of thousands of years
You’d be excused to think he were a weightless creature
Floating upon the sand dunes
Of the vast Kalahari
Often enough barefooted
And increasingly so, nowadays,
He’d be running
In that familiar zig-zag fashion
In front of the inevitable 4X4
With the  stocky figure of a white guy at the controls
A LandCruiser, Jeep Cherokee, BMW X5
or, even, for that matter, a Hummer H3
or some other such hunting carrier/vehicle
occasionally pausing and bending
to scoop a handful of sand
which he gently let’s down
back to the earth
exactly like in the hourglass
all the while sniffing knowingly at it
and looking constantly around
for the minutest signs
in the air around
and the whispering wind        
just for something to give chase to         
in pursuit of that elusive trophy
in f the shifting sands  
of the Kalahari