It’s April Poem by Gert Strydom

It’s April and the autumn rain
patters down for days long,
the Magalies Mountains are covered
by grey-black clouds

and later there are summer days
where the sun still hangs white-hot
and I long, want the summer
to last forever

but the years are already
leaving their marks on my face,
are drawing through my hair
and like some of the trees

in a winter I will also turn skeleton,
become stripped from my better days
and then at a time
will be part of the cold earth.