One Morning I Sat At A Ridge Poem by Gert Strydom

At the bank of a stream
one morning I sat at a ridge,
surrounded by ferns, under an old oak tree

in a wild garden, never spaded by man
with aloes, protea’s and lilies that grew by themselves,
one morning I sat at a ridge,

where branches were not pruned by man,
an earthy scent hanged there
with aloes, protea’s and lilies that grew by themselves,

I was caught by the creation of God,
as if I could stay there until eternity
an earthy scent hanged there

and later I put a line or two into the water,
roasted fish on the coals,
as if I could stay there until eternity

away from the city’s noise.
At the bank of a stream
I roasted fish on the coals
surrounded by ferns, under an old oak tree.