Day’s End

There is something quite magical about sitting and just watching the sun go down….

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The sun starts to set,
The air slowly cools,
The fierce daytime heat
Now no longer rules.
On the stoep we have gathered
For our usual observance
Of the end of the day,
The sun’s disappearance.

The dog has been walked,
The wine has been poured,
The stoep lamps are burning,
Against insects secured;
The last of the daylight
Lingers far out to the West,
It’s awesome changing vistas,
Stirring senses from rest.

And as night supplants day
The twilight is crowned
By animals orchestrating
That African sound.
Guinea fowl roosting,
Chattering away,
Crickets endless chirping,
Owls having their say.

Haunting sounds
As the day’s put to rest,
Another Karoo wonder
By which we are blessed.
And as the stoep lamps flicker
And we watch the flames dance,
The moths come to join us
On their nightly advance.

Finally by the darkness
We’re completely surrounded,
Our mind, soul and body
Now totally grounded.
Of all of life’s crops
Surely this is the cream,
Sitting here on the stoep,
Living our dream.

 

Garden Refugee

There is nowhere I’d rather be………………

When a person seeks a refuge
We call them a refugee,
So when I’m in my garden
Throw that mantle over me.
It is my church, my special place,
A sanctuary where I find peace;
The world outside is kept at bay,
And my soul can find release.

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With hoe in hand or watering can,
Under cloud or the blistering sun,
Life’s petty worries are cast aside
And with nature I become as one.
My garden’s where I truly find peace
As my plants I lovingly tend;
A safe haven that beckons me each day,
A refuge that’s become a true friend.

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The feel of the earth as I work with my hands
Makes the spirits inside of me rise;
I can think of no place I’d rather be,
No better sight for my sore, old eyes.
How can I value these gifts I receive
As my garden keeps on giving and giving?
I’ve found my asylum, I’ve made my escape;
A garden refugee; what a life to be living!

 

Breakfast With A View

Perhaps getting up every morning at sparrows fart just so you can sit in seemingly endless queues of traffic isn’t the best way to start your day? 

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Imagine starting each day
In the way that we do,
Breakfast on a stoep
A great mountain view;
Sitting there chatting,
No need to be rushed,
The smell of fresh coffee,
As the plunger is pushed.
Fresh creamy yoghurt,
Nice and thick, not too runny
And drizzled all over,
With local raw honey.
Eggs sometimes scrambled,
As the routine gets changed,
With tomatoes and bacon
For the yoghurt exchanged.
Our day being planned,
Or then again not,
Discussing the weather,
Is it going to be hot?
Watching orioles and drongos
At the fountain drinking,
Planning garden improvements,
Gets the grey matter thinking.
Just chilling out
Before the day has begun,
As we sit on our stoep feeling
Life’s jackpot’s been won.

 

No Year Resolution

Here’s one New Year resolution that I know I will keep.

My New Year’s resolution
Is perfectly clear,
It’s not to make resolutions
For the New Year.
Self-promises made,
Like some ritual token,
No matter how earnest
Are sure to be broken,
Leading to frustration and guilt,
Such bitter pills to swallow,
So tradition, I’ve decided,
Is not something I’ll follow.

 

 

An Escape to the Country

We’ve made our escape…..have you? 
 
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Away from the noise,
Away from the grime,
Away from the traffic,
That steals our time.

Away from drab buildings,
Uninteresting places,
Away from the graffiti
That so often defaces.

Away from the signs,
The enforced restrictions,
Away from the malls
And those shopping addictions,

Away from the crowds,
The commuting lifestyle,
Away from grey faces
That never smile,

Away from the cameras
That keep a record of us,
Away from the commotion,
Away from the fuss.

An escape to the country,
An escape to more space,
An escape to a life
At a much gentler pace.

With fresh air to breathe
And bird song to hear;
And people with time,
Life drops down a gear. 

The Sunglasses’ Nightmare

You know what it’s like when you put something down, but you just can’t remember where…..

I looked for them here, I looked for them there,
I looked for those sunglasses everywhere.
I looked in the kitchen, I looked in the hall,
Where had I put them? I couldn’t recall.
Searched the lounge, even looked in the loo;
Without my sunglasses what would I do?
Should have walked the dog before the sunrise,
Now the sun is too bright, it will hurt my eyes;
Looked through my office, turned files upside down,
The smile I woke up with had turned into a frown.
I just need my sunglasses, I need them to wear;
Oh the frustration!  I was beginning to swear.
Are they in the car? Took a look in the garage:
Had my wife hid them? No, I mustn’t disparage.
Now getting ever more desperate, even looking under the bed,
And that’s when I found them – on top of my head!

The Night Before Christmas – The Mouse’s Story

“…..’Twas the night before Christmas, when all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse…” We all know Clement Clarke Moore’s wonderful Christmas poem, but did you

ever wonder about that mouse? Well this is his story…

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T’was the night before Christmas
And little Samuel the mouse
Could sense the excitement
As he stole round the house.

Something was different,
Coloured lights and decorations,
And strangers in the house
Called friends and relations.

There was a tree that twinkled,
A holly and mistletoe smell,
And candles on the mantelpiece,
Stockings hung there as well.

For an inquisitive mouse
Lots of new things to explore;
Samuel raced around so excited,
Looking for more.

He climbed the sparkling tree,
Surprised the fairy on top,
Then sliding off from a branch
Landed on boxes with a “plop!”

He didn’t know what was in them,
Or how much joy they would bring,
He just sniffed the bright paper
And had a chew on the string.

Then Samuel spotted something,
It was a sight for sore eyes,
A plate there by the hearth
Loaded with sweet smelling pies.

He danced across the room,
Had his Christmas now come?
A plate full of happiness,
Oh what a treat for his tum!

But before he could eat one
Samuel got such a fright
As a voice cried out,
“Phew, this chimney is tight!”

Then soot started falling,
And crash, a man appeared,
Dressed in a sooty red coat,
With a long, sooty white beard.

He dusted himself down,
Took a sack from his back,
And with a “Ho! Ho! Ho!”
Parcels he began to unpack.

Samuel dashed away,
A frightened little mouse,
Went back behind the skirting
Into his safe little house.

As he watched through a crack
His pies disappeared,
Eaten by the old man
With sooty white beard

Then the old man sighed,
“Suppose it’s time I moved on,”
And he went back to the chimney
And in a flash he was gone.

And as Samuel watched this
He was sure he could hear
Clattering hooves on the roof
That sounded a bit like reindeer.

Samuel crept from his house
And to his surprise,
There by the skirting board
Was one of the pies,

And a note that simply said
“Samuel this one is for you,
Making folks happy at Christmas
Is just what I do.”

So little Samuel slept happily
All through that Christmas day,
Full from eating the sweet pie
Left by the man with the sleigh.

 

 

Just a Friday Morning

Not always that easy to find the motivation…..

As the chill morning air
Banishes a few days of heat,
And the rain gently falls,
For our plants such a treat.
A second pot of coffee,
As if by magic;
Not to soak up this splendour
Would surely be tragic.

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The camera shutter clicks,
Must capture the morning
As the mist cloaks the mountain,
Of more rain it’s a warning.
Searching for the energy
To make a start to our day,
Or should we just stay here?
Perhaps we just may!

 

Scales – There’s No Justice!

Standing on the scales can be a real mood changer!

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It’s a daily ritual
That so many perform.
To stand on the scales,
“Oh weight, please conform!”
We’ve set ourselves goals,
We just want to weigh less,
If we can’t lose those pounds
It just adds to the stress.

So it is with some trepidation
That I strip to the raw,
Ponder the scales,
Waiting there on the floor.
To weigh or not to weigh?
Now that is the question,
Should I leave it ‘til tomorrow,
Maybe use some discretion.

“What say you, scales,
Are you a friend or a foe?”
Until I weigh myself
I’ll just never know;
“Please digital display
Show the numbers I need,
I want to lose weight;
I need to recede”.

Stop! Think back to yesterday,
What did I eat?
Oh god, I had cheesecake,
But I needed a treat,
For the rest of the day
I think I was good,
Eating only the food
That I knew that I should.

That cheesecake now
Plays on my mind,
Better not weigh myself,
Yes, that would be kind,
If my weight’s gone up
A bitter pill to swallow,
Best leave this weighing thing
Until tomorrow!

 

 

The Prickly Pear

Have the bees been playing tricks on me…?

I went to see my apple tree
And what did I find there?
Not my favourite Granny Smith,
But instead a prickly pear.
Now I’ve never heard of this before,
A most unusual situation.
Must be the result of a freak of nature,
An error in cross pollination.

So I rang the Cross Pollination Institute,
To ask them about my pear,
But they were out cross pollinating,
So I got no answers there.
It must be the bees who had got confused,
So I know where I must go,
A bee keeper lived at the end of the lane,
The last cottage in the row.

But the bee keeper couldn’t help me,
Yesterday he’d been badly stung,
And off he’d been whisked to hospital
After the ambulance had been rung.
It was certainly proving quite difficult
To find out about my prickly pear,
I know! I could try the library;
I should find the answer there.

Down the hill and across the bridge,
The library was next to the church with the spire
But when I got there, oh what a shock,
The library building was engulfed in fire!
Fire engines parked along the street,
There were firemen and hoses galore;
I was feeling really frustrated now,
Under my breath, I nearly swore.

Then I remembered the interweb,
Google it, come on, I should have known!
But would you believe it, my router was down,
A connection appears to have blown.
So on went the kettle, I needed a cuppa,
To help me try and recuperate;
Finding out about my prickly pear
For the time being, would have to wait.

Then one last idea came into my head,
I could use mobile communication.
A photo taken and shared on line,
I could ask for some information.
So off I went with my phone in hand,
No way was I going to be beaten,
But when I arrived back at my apple tree,
By the birds, the pear had been eaten!