That's something I'll miss--that South African expression. Eesh. Anyway, I'm short on inspiration, so I thought I'd try something new. Here's a poem I wrote back in November 2009 that's been rolling around in a folder in my computer.
We were walking
Out on the mountain slopes
Before the ground became too steep and rocky
And the old burns were there
Twisted blackened limbs
Trunks cracked and broken like dry skin
Pines and stands of eucalyptus, whispering.
We ducked under barbed wire to watch the quarry
Pied crows collared white, small birds chattering but unseen.
The grass was tall and still wet, old ruins creaking on the mountainside.
Lilies of some kind
All in a bunch.
I pointed over the bay to the grey spots
Where the clouds had blocked out sky from water.
You said that was not right,
But I didn't care.
I liked my way better.