Thank you, Anni. Maybe I'm a masochist because I do like making things difficult for myself. I considered rhyming each line as well, but that was a bridge too far. Perhaps next time...
There, in the heat of a lowveld afternoon,
the impala river reaches a paved road,
shimmering strip, blast of dry furnace,
the herd shies at the obstacle momentary,
then one gathers itself, like a coiled spring
released, it soars across the road in perfect arc,
and the herd, in bright-flanked unison,
leap together, a flying bridge to the shaded trees.
Line count: 8
Free verse
For Express It In Eight, 07.25.22
Prompt: Overarching.
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