Years have turned into centuries
In my living time,
When memories reel back the wheel of time
I have come home
To see the Limpopo still flowing
The sand banked on its shores
Not in beachy volumes, but in scattered tide-pushed heaps.
Flashing back,
I mirror a brother fishing
A mackerel shoal swimming
The nearest mountain lying there stiffly, familiar like the blue sky
Molehills unchanged.
At fifty rewind the clock's arms
Beyond your manhood moments,
Still old routes strand
Footpaths ascend hills,
From the rivers.
Seeing the fish shoals swimming.
