Thursday 1 November 2012


I will return
To the dust
Of the dry season

Kicked up in the air
By grazing herds
And playful children


With open eyes
Wide smiles

Voices that tickle
The heart
With laughter

To the river
That refuses
To give up its
Waters to drought

The trees that thrive
And those that
Simply survive

And the scent
Of jasmine
In the air of night

And the stars
Of the dark sky

That reach to the touch
Of the gentle and the humble