The Four Blossoms of the Land
Each leaf is a lyric,a hymn; each petal is a melody,a prayer for return. The King Protea, royal and still, holds its face to the sun like a proud son of of Africa saying,'' I can survive fire, drought and wind- still I bloom''.
King Protea
burnt hills whispering-
the protea unfolds again,
queen of rebirth's crown
The Fynbos sings in many tongues. Its scent fills the valleys from the Cape to the Karoo,a low and endless choir reminding us that beauty can both be fragile and fierce.
The Fynbos (The Lowland's Breath )
soft winds brush the hills,
fynbos holds the rain's memory-
small flowers,vast memory
The Baobao,the ancient one,stands in the North like a monument to time-thick trunk wielding the secrets of millenia, arms wide like welcoming all creatures of the plain.
The Baobao (The Timekeeper)
beneath the old shade,
The ancestor speaks in wind-
silence with heartbeat
The Fever Tree grows ghostly, by the rivers, where the spirits of elephants and herds come to drink; while the Marula gives both fruit and story-for beneath its branches laughter, love and song have long gathered.
The Marula (The Joy Giver)
fruit falls,-laughter rings
children and elephants dance
summer tastes like peace
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