The Hyacinth

By Ronald Tlhokojapelo

The summer solstice had
come at last.
And quietly crept through
the windows of society
like an insidious fog.
The rains being late,
the dry figs fell
to the ground
a loose teardrop
from an ecstatic eye,
drawing neither applause
nor reproof.
The bloomed hyacinth lingered
over the bronzed alps
like an ancient monument
on a desolate courtyard.
Stern.
Unwavering.
Timeless.
They could all be heard.
The howl of the noontide
and the knell of traffic jams
that carried unfiltered angst
which riveted the rusty meadows
like a broken fiddle.
I passed by your house in early spring
while you stood beneath
a thorn tree,
nearly fourteen or fifteen.
Humming a low tune
while you breastfed
your first child.

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Ronald is a 29 year old writer living in Kanye. He is a media graduate with a passion for literary arts, in particular poetry. He is a first-time writer whose poetry explores the human experience, as well as the human condition. He reads both contemporary and classical writers.