The Magic of the Farming Days

In the quiet morning light I see the deep oshanas breaking round like a boundless oasis that is bright and the echoes of the cattle happily resound. Manna of the north is planted and the mielies grow around the homestead harrowed as the family toiled the soil swallows the breeze of the drizzle ahead. Oh, how peaceful northern life its addictive memory is unerasable as the sun tiptoes towards the West and the herder's whistle resurges in the lovable forest.