July frost whitens grass below 

an ink stained night of diamond 

studded skies hard bright cold

Snow is hinted that would cover 

The lime tree with a sugar lattice 

Reminiscent of a Japanese print

Spurflowers across the yard

Long past their pastel prime

Rest till their seasonal labour’s

Begin in warming October 

Nederberg’s Two Centuries Red

Rolls deliciously off the tongue 

This winter's night by the window 

The fire crackling at my back

My thoughts return to the bush

These same stars and night

Without Jo’burg’s soulless 

Sounds and lights so less

Diminished so pulsingly alive

My friends there sipping Pito

Wrapped in blankets quietly

Telling of  ancestral deeds

Around an acacia fire having 

Braais a Springbok haunch

Hissing the spit steaming 

Collards potted on the edge

I wish them well envious of 

Their freedom’s quest

Which I have now regrettably

abandoned paid as price for

A baccalaureate cum laude

In favour of this home fire

Comfort and imprisonment