Camping in the Magaliesburg Mountains

Cooing pigeons drip with the dew

From the stillness air is not

To be flaunted

It is to breathe again that

We seek.  To flow with the air

And to breathe themselves into the

Stratosphere of existence through

The be all and end all.

The cool breath of the wind is far from the tale

Of the acacia, the thorny tree

A burdensome fire when frozen to

Your retina with iron

Glow in the morning as you stare

At the coals remembering the night


Copyright B E Saunders 2016

(Memories of being a boy scout in South Africa in the ’70’s and camping out in the mountains west of Johannesburg, not far from Sun City)

    • It was a very “Boy’s Own” childhood I had, with alot of camping and environmental studies. Shame that the scout troop happened to be whites only as was the boy scouts at that time in South Africa. So we hot subsidised by the local white PTA. Living in a white area of Johannesburg, the affluent Northern suburbs, miles from SOWETO or Alexandria. Fond memories.

      Liked by 1 person

      • Bored or busy?

        Hmm myn is same…. Good… Nyc…okkk

        Sounds cool ..


        Liked by 1 person

  1. Looking back, it was viscious how they wrestled the control of the country from the majority. And i lived in the middle of it – I attended my first ANC meeting off University campus in 1986, during the State of Emergency. Man! I didn;t know then how foollishly it could have workied out.


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