

Karoo WinterIts that time of day The dry Karoo with its burnt throat sighs after another winter I amble through the crackling bush calling They are further than they usually are; theyve been searching for Summer Like the Karoo, they are dead beat; they hear my voice like a promise, -Oh, its just me-Karoo Winter
They follow me, nearly 500 feet trekking forward We walk away from the Sun and gradually begin to feel the chill The sun has drained the land Near the pens we speed up and suddenly A crack in the distance, a promise and then a rumble
Perhaps tomorrow we feel the
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