Sedge

Witkoppen Road at 5:30 of an evening is a study in the hellacious nature of this culture.

Cars and trucks nose-to-bumper, gasoline and diesel fumes heavy on the air and in your lungs; motorbikes weaving with death or serious injury between the larger vehicles; pedestrians darting between taxis on the shoulder of the road.

When the sedge plants call to me from the wasteland between shopping malls I turn my ears to listen. Behold – the wild Verbena

and the even wilder Datura

And Thistle! Pearl Acacia! Long-Stemmed Purple Thingy I Don’t Yet Have a Name For!
Fuzzy-seeded grasses and yellow-flowered sedges, low clumped plants of so many greens my mind is laughing.

And from this motely crew, a message: wordless, yet clear in its information.

Joy.

The very bliss of being here, now, incarnate upon this plane. Among the sedge-rows. And the cars.

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