Mowing (Cavatina) Poem by Gert Strydom

Overpowering the machine mowed
with its roaring
stifling all other kinds of garden sounds,
the nylon string
of the edge cutter frayed at times
and approaching
a butterfly fluttered about
in silence, far away was a child's shout.

Wild doves and sparrows pecked small insects
on the green lawn,
orange hoopoes were fluttering about
while some did fawn
where I had laboured lonely hours
after first dawn,
extremely bright shone the white hot sun,
on another summer day full of great fun.