village

myriad hues on the boundary walls
of the great horizon.
where trees touch the orange sky
and birds fly past them.
the wind rustles the green hair
of the many trees.
where man and nature live in peace
and happiness is free.
the smoke from the huts of simple men
curls up to reach the clouds.
black child of a white mother,
runs to hug her bound.
farmers return from their fields
tired from the labour of the day.
who toil and put their bodies to work
and don't wait for the sunshine
to make hay.
sons of earth with their tools in hand
who have called it a day.