Morwenna

Botswana: Molepole

Plants become weeds when they obstruct our plans (Richard Mabey).

 

Our path takes us

Through grey thorn scrub;

A shock of yellow butterflies,

Red ant-hills, shoulder-high.

                                   

Bathed in African light

We inhale the scents and

Recover the senses of childhood

In a landscape of the heart.

                                   

This wide country has space;

The thorn bushes are free to thrive

For now.