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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