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Highveld Winter
I love the quiet and long shadows of winter,
Thrown as I walk in the veld through brown grass tall,
When the sun is low and the cold is bitter.
Finches and waxbills no longer twitter.
Under foot the frost crackles at each footfall.
I love the quiet and long shadows of winter.
In the silence deep I have an urge to call
Out loud, to claim a patch however small.
When the sun is low and the cold is bitter.
Alone in the veld I feel that I own it
As far as my shadow reaches. And recall
I love the quiet and long shadows of winter.
A slight breeze ruffles the grass like a drifter.
As the day is ended there comes nightfall
When the sun is low and the cold is bitter.
Now far away I see candle lights flicker.
As the cold night bites I tug on a shawl.
I love the quiet and long shadows of winter
When the sun is low and the cold is bitter.
Copyright ©
Keith Beavon
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