The Old White Head Angel (Sonnet) Poem by Gert Strydom

Weekends when the longing for a barbeque do catch people
when they long for fried chops, steak or sausage
I can smell the fragrances of many fires
as if in our neighbourhood the smoke of offering fires do hang
when many cars do constantly stop in our street and hoot
and then the old white head angel comes out of his house with speed
where he is selling charcoal, wood and sometimes eggs to them
do talk about life and always asks:"are you doing well? "
Sometimes I see him with his trailer standing in Colliery road,
how fast the cars in the mornings and afternoons do speed past him
where he is sitting with a cap on his and under a piece of canvas do face the sun
and I know that in a way he does understand the heart of every Afrikaner,
when the evening twilight comes the wind brings his song of praise to me
where he is holding vespers to lead his children and grandchildren to God.

© Gert Strydom