I Wait For The First Summer Rain

I wait for the first summer rain,
the killing winter black ripe to cease to fall,
the grass to turn from white brown to green
before I will turn the ground again,
plant new vegetables, flowers and shrubs

but I hear birds sing
in the evergreen berry tree
as if asking me
to plant the first seed,
as if they are already inviting spring.

by Gert Strydom

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