The Listening Hills - Poem by Jinge Norvall
A garden majestic in grandeur,
Hewn from rock and stone, her pillared plinths
Like sentinels amidst
The granite domes
Boulders hugged by leafy boughs
Like chicks 'neath mother' s wing,
Trees perched on cliff & column
Like cormorants sunning their wings.
Here leopard lies low in cave & crag
& the eagle swoops in from the sun
Snatching prey on open domes, where hyrax scurries by...
Where an age ago
The San of old
Painted their dreamtime in caves,
Ancient etchings of bygone times
When life was pure
Where dragonflies hover, gently abuzz
Over rock-pool and hurrying stream,
And pigeons call softly to the coo-ing dove,
In this sun -blest place
That i love...
And echoing through the valleys,
Resounding from cliff-face to dome,
Mighty Baboon barks his orders
To the listening hills
Of his home.
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