Thursday, 5 May 2011

Where the Dwarfs Dance

Dancing seems to be something reminiscent of centuries ago,
dancing to the rhythm of a beating heart;
harmonious with the moving soul of the African bush
the beating drum, fluttering leaves, stumping feet
dusted with earth

Rusted bodies ache, as screws mend their broken bones
collected by the heap of owl dung
Fire, flames clapping hands, replacing the eternal light
of a endless day
the song of the night owl, echoing the dance to the black night
her wedding dress shining like the diamonds of the sky
the glow worm signs his disco light,
moths waltzing freely through candle light

Winter fills the evening breeze
winds of change came tapping down the pathway grass obeying every command
as raindrops announce their entry to the ball

Wielewaal Limpopo South Africa

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