1.saturday early and the chickensare singing up a stormold women on wooden pewsthin church voices vining the rafters,soon it will be day enoughto open their doorscatter the grain –leave themto their bustling and scratchingbefore the rain. 2.in knysna the roadsare crammed with touristsescapees from the cityseeking holy days and silencebecoming the noise they left behind…
tree there is no waiting – no now no then only here, new sun flickering lichen bark on old trees. piet-my-vrou between call and answer is silence, cuckoo calls again never loosing faith, knowing it is the silence that shapes its call.