Month: March 2020

I shall sing of his joy
I shall cry for my sorrow;
the silent sound of falling earth
calls the thunder down
and theses tears
cannot see tomorrow.

She sings quiet songs
Twirls red wine in a glass
In the long evening
Out on the veranda.

The humidity tonight
sticks my shirt to my skin,
the clouds threaten rain,
some promise of relief,
but the water does not come.

Like the waves upon the shore
ceaseless are the cares and worries
that crowd the day,
ceaseless are the demands of children
to be moulded like the potters clay.

A solitary figure,
he guards the shore
from the invading
white waves,
makes his plans,
stands alone.

Today the slow drizzling rain
Painted the bush a brighter green
And put a new song in its heart
So that every leaf
And every branch
And every trunk
Sung for joy