Rustique Rose

I've stopped for a cappuccino at a restaurant in Piet Retief that I've always driven past, never visited. It's piqued my curiosity; next time I'll have a meal.
I'm no longer in KwaZulu-Natal.
It's a hot day, and my emotions are on a rickety roundabout.
About 200 km from home.
It's a quick break to rest and centre myself.
And although warm, the words of Yeats' poem, Wild Swans at Coole, trip over themselves upon leaving my tongue... "the trees are in their autumn beauty, the woodland paths are dry...".