Here Comes Treble: A Summer Medley
Isabel Bradley brings us a medley of seven poems which capture the awesomeness and delight of summertime in South Africa.
For more of Isabel's delicious words - prose and poems - please click on Here Comes Treble in the menu on this page.
* * *
Summer brings terrifying thunder storms to the city of Johannesburg.
The Stormwind
Body,
asleep without me.
Behind eyelids,
just me.
Alone.
And the stormwind
whipping the trees in the dark,
Lashing at thoughts
in the void.
***
One summer afternoon, driving on the highway, Leon and I watched a tornado develop a few kilometres away.
Summer Storm
See there,
There on the horizon,
Storm a-brewing…
Watch,
The dark clouds
Foaming, black and angry –
There on the horizon.
See –
The storm points
Narrow finger from the sky.
Fierce and angry,
Searching,
Racing nearer,
Hunting,
Whirling:
Thick, obscene,
There – just there!
Storm cloud reaches down
To rape the earth.
***
When the storms have washed the air, summer in Johannesburg is delightful – clear days with a breeze to lift the heat, and crisp, cool nights that carry memories of innocence.
Summer
Summertime -
And snow is under the apple-tree;
Peach and plum are blanketed in green,
The garden a bed of gold.
And I sit and dream
and smile.
At night
A full moon rides the sky,
Bedded in star-flecked velvet;
And the air smells sweet of blossom.
And I lie alone and smile
And dream.
***
Walking through tree-lined streets delights the senses – colour and perfume flow from gardens and pavements.
Summer Evening
In fading light
we walk between the jacarandas,
their fallen purple carpets
soft and gentle under our feet.
The royal trees,
dark, twisted arms misted with blossom,
drift like purple clouds
across the suburbs.
And in the perfumed dusk,
Float the succulent scents of summer;
the pale blue sky is painted
with sun-splashed, sleepy clouds.
***
Not all is joy and light, however: predators abound, and grief can strike when least expected.
Swallow’s Death
Sleek bodies flying high,
Swooping and swirling on waves of air,
High “twee” and throaty “chirr”
ringing in the summer sky…
Prowler on the portal
Reaches padded paw
With claw unfurled –
A gentle pat…
Sleek body falls to earth,
Limp, still warm –
Bundle of feathers lying dead.
Flying high, its mate seeks,
Swooping and swirling on currents of air,
Plaintive “twee” and throaty “chirr”
Mourning through the summer sky.
***
The skies above Johannesburg are high and bold, painted with cloud-pictures.
Musical Skies.
Swooping Swallows in the Southern Skies
Add grace-notes and trills to the moving majesty
Of storm-fluff and fair-weather clouds
That play in contrary motion.
***
Listening to a Debussy violin sonata while a storm raged in the dusk outside, evoked the final poem in this summer medley.
Autumn in Midsummer
Outside,
like autumn leaves,
yellow blossoms blow
from tossing, tangled,
green-leaved trees.
Here inside,
notes flutter -
frightened brown-winged birds,
storm-tossed,
from bow,
fingers,
and keyboard...
***
Until next week… “here comes Treble!”
Isabel Bradley
Copyright Reserved ©
