Photo by Stephen BessIt is Autumn and this road,
familiar and dry, where ferns crouch
like expectant children
under live oaks fanned by the wind
that rustles through the faded blossoms,
whispers your name;
soon there will be the welcome noise
of rain climbing over the hills
down into the villages of thatch
and mortar held in an embrace
of music, laughter, and tears
for this season of want and plenty,
for this brief time beside you.
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7 comments:
Ha! I knew it! This is what you can do in such a short time? It's full. I mean, it has all the elements one would want in a poem, or any piece of writing for that matter: it's got story, style, music and character. It's very nice.
Looks like Stephen has started something larger than he imagined.
Geoffrey,
I'll have to parrot Mr. Masilo's sentiment. This is great! I especially love the line: "...where ferns crouch
like expectant children." This is beautiful.
I love it, Geoffrey. The last line made me catch my breath. lol It really did. So suddenly human a personal and sweet.
Wonderful. I'll link to it soon.
TS
I love it, Geoffrey. The last line made me catch my breath. lol It really did. So suddenly human a personal and sweet.
Wonderful. I'll link to it soon.
TS
Thank you, TS
Give thanks for the link!
1 Love,
Geoffrey
Rethabile & Stephen,
Thank you both for the compliments and help in spreading the word about the poll, especially the one on Rastafari.
Well, another weekend is upon us. I'll be celebrating the birthday of an elder, 75 years this Sunday, so there is much to cheer about...
Blessings,
Geoffrey
Hi Geoffrey, this is beautiful. I'm visiting from TS but we have some things in common so I'll be back!
One Love, what a great way to sign off!
One heart,
Beth
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