late morning

underneath a big green tree

there is you

and there is me

the things we haven’t done

fall between us

with the leaves


and dreams

soft now


our feet

they draw the sting

from the fact that I was born

and you must die

now. here. there is only you

and there is only me.

the economy

of our words

is the joy of us

as we sit


a big




[Image by Moyan_Brenn, licensed through CC]



  1. Jesus Andrew. It is way too early in the day for me to start crying…

  2. The economy of words as a joy is something I recognise – and have, with my Nan. It’s a rare and precious thing in my Rorschach train ride of a life. A holy silence. This piece is powerful enough to send me the sound of the breeze in the leaves, of the giant green tree.

  3. What a great, thoughtful and empathic piece. How we should treasure our parents. I visited my father in Bloemfontein yesterday. In May he will be 84 years old. What gets him most at this age is loneliness, he misses his brothers and sisters most. If I had the time and resources, I would drive him around the country to visit all of them. He has been married to my mother for 57 years now, but they are getting on each other’s nerves now, mainly because they cannot get around as much as they used to. He is in his final years. I wish I could be closer in terms of time and space.

  4. Aaah, beautiful, beautiful piece, Andrew.

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