To Patrick Cullinan

Windpumps twinkling metal sails
And rivers embroidered with green,
A dirt road, slower horizons;
Well I remember going by
Machadodorp in '51.

Now, bar the odd oniony spire
Its limewashed church points at the sky,
Nothing that I remember's here.
A chromium and formica
Cafe selling chips and Coca-Cola

To helmeted Easter riders
Tells, more than dead grass or turned leaves,
It's later in a later year;
A new macadam ribbon bends
Maputo to Pretoria.
...