If you're out driving through the foothills of the Drakensberg
don't miss the signs that edge your road in sun and rain.
One leads to what looks like a shed made out of planks of wood
whose knots and cracks are weathered in the grain.

Read A Small Church in the Drakensberg

I saw across the rows of pews last night
  a woman's face as lined and beautiful
as yours will be when we're as grey and old.

I turned to look at yours. Below the eyes
  I saw the first faint signs of time's caress
and felt a tender ache I'd never known.

Read Evensong in Grahamstown Cathedral

It's not the friendliest of villages, Emmaus,
the people parochial, as desert people are,
bound up in the herding and bartering of beasts,
the vines on its terraces encumbered with thorns,
the children in the market roasting a sparrow,
hardly the place to expect revelation,
if revelation's the word – I leave that to you.

Read The Road to Emmaus