He digs his fingers into the ground.
Extends his neck and looks around.
Shades of green flicker in the breeze.
Apple gum full of flower, hums to the sound of bees.
Billowing clouds tumble through the sky.
All these beautiful images processed by his eye.
The wind blows up and tries to knock him from his spot.
All his stubbornness to stop losing what he has now got.
But he pushes his fingers down, spreading roots into the ground.
New found strength he has now found.
Cemented to the spot, nothing able to budge him.
He draws his strength from the earth, his soul full to the brim.
Part of the earth sprouts in his heart.
Nothing now can pull this place and him apart.

Deon Heemskerk 16-7-11

claret ash and chairs at bendemeer



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