The South African autumn is plucking from the peach tree its leaves; they lay like flecks of gold on the grass.

On this clear autumn evening in South Africa, as if in concert, all across the Overberg, the rolling hills are being sown with wheat and barley—the prelude to one of the most beautiful sights in the world: fields blown by the wind!

In many ways, I think of the landscape and creatures of the Overberg (the region in which I live in the Western Cape of South Africa) as divine; and as such, in my poetry, I respond to them, for they fill me with a sense of awe.