My friend Sean Christie wrote the terrific poem below and sent this wonderful video to me.

Sean is a writer based in South Africa, though he’s originally Zimbabwean… maybe that explains the “kloof” in the last stanza. Thanks Sean! This is beautiful.

Richard Thompson, Beeswing

Kannaland storm

A lost bee admires

in imperial bronze

its Panniers. Climbs

through the keyhole

Disappears

The florets of a vine like

The blind young of snakes

search the chicken wire

leaves dripping like broken heads

While lavender romps like a mad dog

on the rose

Geranium

The geranium fighting back,

Mad with pain and blood

Lust The poker-

red locust

has been stoned already

smooth belly up

on a tile

Dust,

perhaps cloud

curls into arum

Cups above apricot trees

furious to their tips

and the whole valley

is a white Pitted spathe.

Spindled yellow

From kloof to sky