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On the anvil that’s the dorp
The noon-day sun beats down.
So between twelve and two
Life in the place is suspended.
Doors to the stores are ‘toe’
And in their dusty windows cheap 
Mannequins sleep with open eyes.

The air is still and heavy.
So in the sparse foliage
Of small pepper trees
Feathered creatures perch,
With beaks agape,
And wings spread wide,
Trying to beat the heat.

At the door to the bar
Of the ‘Royal’ Hotel,
In a sliver of shade,
A mastiff lies panting.
Inside the trade is slow.
Manne on barstools
Nurse brandy-and-coke.

House windows are closed. 
In the darkened interiors,
Hidden from sight by
Slatted wooden shutters,
People flop on chairs,
Avoid all movement, in 
Attempts to beat the heat.

At two a slight sputter of life.
It is ‘government’ employees 
Returning to work.
The magistrate and two clerks
Dawdle back to the court.
The post-master and staff
Re-enter the GPO.

It’s still quiet at the ‘Royal’ Hotel. 
With no shoppers the doors
Of the stores remain closed.
Under the shade of pepper trees,
Outside the shuttered Co-op,
And alongside the ‘Prokureur’s, 
A bakkie and tractor are parked.

The ‘garage’ is deserted
Save for its two Caltex pumps.
From all sun-baked surfaces.
Hot, dry, and dusty air rises.
So every now and then
The wind-pump in my yard
Creaks as it turns a little.

In school classrooms 
Pupils slump on desks.
Teachers no longer teach;
“Lees jul voorgeskrewe boek.” 
Two-thirty! At last!
The school-day’s over
And also the worst of the heat.

Now en masse
Pupils scurry out,
Head for home, then
After something to eat
It’s back for athletics
On a grass-free track, or
Tennis on concrete courts.

Eventually the glowering sun
Sends streaks of colour 
Across the western sky
As it slowly dips out of sight.
Then when twilight is over
The moon is bright and bathes
The town in silvery hues.

By nine o’clock
It’s cool and still
Save for the flutter of moths
Around the outside lights.
And I lie on a bed 
Outside on the stoep
With my dog at my feet.
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