Dusk in peace decends

That's the view from the new apartment, which I should be moving into - in Woodstock, Cape Town - on around about the 27th of this month. I was there this morning, to make up my mind, finally.

Right now: A herd (hadedas most certainly don't flock together!) of hadeda's are bird-bleating in the ancient oak behind the house; there's an unusually soft and windless light above-and-around Devil's Peak as a large, almost full moon rises in the east… the shortening of summer's extraordinarily long days is already visible: my thoughts linger on "this mortal coil" that some of us warily tread, but not me.

I know it's perceived as terribly old fashioned, I really don't care, but in God I depend.

Beautiful night, perfectly

Just home.
With a beer, black and stout, beneath the tree in the corner by the pool, reclined.
At peace.
Beneath the hadeda nest and the crescent moon, which bejewels the ink-pot night sky.
Not even a breath, except mine: I'm alive in my Source.
Crickets, many, some frogs in the distance. World seems at peace.
Soft light, festive lights.
Ripples in and on the pool. Drop a stone into the pond
And see what on the ripples comes back
Beer taste of metal in my mouth
Oh to kiss
Apple you're too clever, spell ahead, and trip me up. Go away