Nature Tankas - Poem by Gert Strydom
The cup of the moon
flowers yellow in the night,
is big round and clear
next to a swarm of small stars
that withers in the morning.
Pink rose cup opens
on this clear winter morning
as a butterfly
that flutters at the garden gate
drawing the postman’s brown eyes.
Ibises scream screeching
when the small dog chase them up
as if they curse it,
while blue doves peep from green branches
as if they see something odd.
in the soft drizzle hang full of
fragrant shining drops
until a quick shower falls down
washing pretty flowers off.
When a grey bush shrike
greets the morning joyfully
we are drinking tea
around the old kitchen table
and that bird sounds next to us.
The scent of wet sand
rise in my nose with the rain
that which stays behind -
the smell of nature still hangs
in the big old large white house.
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