At The Small Farm-Dam (Refrain Stanza) Poem by Gert Strydom

I caught crabs where in the farm-dam they did in hiding lie,
a swarm of coots hanged screeching in the sky,
bright on the water the afternoon-sun did gleam
and when I got out on a rock anything did possible seem,
silver needle-small fishes darted by,
grown catfish came up and dived down again,
the hillock smelling like sugar-bush do in my mind remain
and for no other place longed I,
a swarm of coots hanged screeching in the sky.

© Gert Strydom