In Natal's Midlands Poem by Gert Strydom

Green maize fields, the Drakensberg in the distance,
streams past and the smell of ripening corn
is sweet in the air and this rural aria
is well known to me from my childhood years.
Suddenly a truck with a trailer jack-knifes
in front of me, blocking the highway
with its body and braking wheels
making smoke rise from the tar.
The dirt track on the left
is the only option to stay alive and at speed,
gearing down while braking I hit it
with the motorbike shuddering
thorn bushes and grass flashing past
before coming to a halt totally unscathed.

© Gert Strydom