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| 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 |
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| 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 |
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| Winter fills the evening breeze winds of change came tapping down the pathway grass obeying every command drizzling as raindrops announce their entry to the ball |
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| Wielewaal Limpopo South Africa |
