A third poem from my recent visit to Namibia, a few luxurious days at a lodge, with wildlife, wonderful food, and the otherworldly luxury of green in the desert landscape.

Lodge morning

Animals that stayed up late browsing, 

nowhere to be seen in the golden morning, 

A single bushbuck, pondering the nights event,

Abandoned, his darkness reflects in the silver waterhole,

Slowly withdraws into the shrubby bush.

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But the weaver birds, in noise and motion, busy, busy

Weaving away amongst the tiny, water conserving leaves, 

the narrow, close branches, the abundant twigs.

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The lawn is a green shock in the red-grey vastness, 

A tiny pool – an unspeakable luxury 

You can float, and admire the endless depth of blue above

With only swallows flashing by.

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Mariental, 2020

This week’s poem, inspired by my recent visit to Windhoek and Namibia. A place that was full of surprises to me.

First impressions

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Klein Windhoek, 

Unlike familiar chaotic capitals,

Or well-trampled historic cities.

Not sure what I expected, but this…

With windblown seedpods and orderly aloe gardens,

Wilderness just outside the neat back door.

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View across the city at dusk

Other harsh, hot hills spring to mind,

Stylish, timeless homesteads

Of California in summer.

Homes proudly displayed,

With fences and hedges but few excluding walls.

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Histories and structures surprising

As the shape of cactus plants.

In this geographic outpost,

Unexpected neighbours, peacefully side by side,

A reminder that no two places are the same.

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Windhoek, 2020

This week’s poem inspired by a forest walk, to the stunning Zoka Forest in Adjumani District of Northern Uganda. Organised by Friends of Zoka, tireless defenders of one of the last stretches of original forest.

Zoka Forest

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Walking in original, indigenous forest,

Leaving, in a step, the sharp heat and light,

Gazing up, up, into multi-greened, layered canopy,

Flashes of light and moisture, voices of birds.

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Breathing the cool, feeling the shelter,

Whispers of life in leaves, xylem in stems,

Vines, looping, muscularly between branches,

Rustling, dripping, moss, fungi, lichen, 

Saplings and giants, tripping over buttress roots.

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Passing narrow paths fading into green,

Our voices, hushed, talk of snakes,

Solitude in darkness, cycles of nutrients, top predators.

With muddy shoes, powdery bark on hands and elbows,

We can hardly bear to leave.

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Driving home we pass planted pine forests,

Sturdy trees; useful, uniform,

Important in so many ways.

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But to the senses!

Grape-flavored drink

After wine.

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Adjumani, 2020

Against the yellow base,

Ashy brown peaks, lined and rugged,

Trees and shrubs, shades of brown, grey, green,

Form lines, patches, swirls –

Crowding, spreading, organizing according to the lie of the land,

The flow of the wind, the gathering of sediments,

Shapes of the landscape.

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I’m searching for clues; how do people live here?

Human habitation appears out of place,

Toys in a giant’s sandpit,

Insignificance against colossal nature,

And in all the wrong colours.

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Verdant green clings to a golf course near a town,

Fraying at the edges.

Low buildings blink beady eyes at the sun.

The watchful sun, just overhead

In the blue, blue sky.

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Colours shift with the movement of the sun,

Dawn and dusk are landscaper artists.

Shade and shadow add detail.

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Bands of bare rock, outcrops, sand with tufts of grey,

On and on. 

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Temperature shifts, beating sun, sandblasting wind, 

These are the powers, the forces;

Water only trails long delicate fingers

In the low places of the landscape.

Nothing worn soft and smooth, 

Everything blasted, harsh and sharp.

No glimmer of moisture, but the glitter of fresh exposed rock.

Roots forcing their way through crevices,

Seeking hidden sources, survival forces.  

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Peaks become gradually more scattered,

Lonely against the flat dryness, 

Eventually the horizon becomes a dark line,

Mountains, perhaps. Maybe once there was water here, 

Where a giant dug warm toes in moist sand,

and dumped piles of rocks as she hurried home. 

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Driving from Windhoek

October 2020