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the beginning of the end

the beginning of the end

it’s July in the Boland,
as an un-seasonably fine day begins,
heralding fire-warnings and a peculiar heatwave,
a berg wind before the crash,
weather weirdness - wacky and wonderful.

and we both wind ourselves up
like kids at christmas,
wondering what winter will do,
as we get to sun-dawdle [where’s your blockout?]
growing under the greenhouse grandeur
of a mid-year break.

dappled sun-through-trees,
a picnic packed precariously,
water-bottle accompaniment,
rucksack ramble along an overgrown path,
then tea at the dam,
my thermos gratefully acknowledged
by a thirsty wife,
toes dangling in the shallows.

then talk of the future,
topic moving playfully with the sun
meandering conversationally towards
global warming, the ozone layer, problems in paradise,
and the slow sunset of civilisation,

and of course my pet theory,
about food chains, supply and demand,
nature’s way of restoring the balance,
8 billion humans, no predator more diabolical or adaptable,
except the common virus?

our eyes swivel synchronously
as a hah-de-dah assegais a frog, skewered cruxiform
not twenty yards from our viewpoint,
and we casually contemplate our mortality,
then prophetically, poetically, plaintively
she sneezes…

the beginning of the end?