Homecoming [2] Poem by Gert Strydom

When I hear your car roaring in the street,
when the motor-gate of the palisades groan open

and the two Jack Russell dogs begin to whine
as if you had been gone for days

then I know that you are home

and there is something in the way that you walk
when you come near and walk away in front of me,

in the supple magic that you bring to a dress
when silly-mad the dogs caper about

and of every movement that you make I bear knowledge
but much more than this I know how much I do miss you.