Gert Strydom
Kimo’s about nature in the city
The thunder branches, crackling down blue-white,
on the inner eye the power
of God is lingering.
*
At the old pond each raindrop circles out wide
before a fish gleaming gold
brake through the calm surface
*
With the first cold rain shower that is falling
steam hisses in snow white clouds
reaching up to heaven
*
No croaking frog or cricket that screams shrill
can be heard above the noise
of a train and lorries.
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