Wild flowers

A speck of Kalahari desert
sun baked and stretching
as far as the eye could see
where winds had blown
red-brown sand before
the air was sweet with the odour
of thousands of wild flowers.

Everywhere were different colours,
shapes and sizes
and nature had set its garden
right there in the desert of Namakwaland
and the miracle that a few showers
of rain brought
stretched out all around me.

poem by Gert Strydom
Submitted by Poetry Lover
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