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  • Writer's pictureThe Red Wheelbarrow Poetry

Blind and Deaf, the Afternoon

Annette Snyckers


Spring


The first warmth of spring

sits comfortably on my shoulder,

the smell of pine and fynbos mingle

like a cocktail I would love to taste.

I am walking in the still plantation,

tree shadows fall in slanted spikes

across the sandy path.

The dogs run ahead,

turning dark, then bright,

into shadow, into light,

dry twigs snap, a hadedah objects

and screeches up into the blue.


7 March 2016


Now at summer’s end

the stream creeps underground

autumn dust hangs in the air,

the forest creaks – tinder-dry.

She leaves behind her

mother, sister, dog,

she runs ahead alone –

hell-bent, three shadows

fall across the sandy path.

No one sees

how they grab her –

into shadow,

into that final night.

No one hears --

dry twigs snap,

only

a hadeda objects

and screeches up into the blue.


Featured on 29 April 2021


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