I



A plane touches down

And safely carries you to a land

less crowded than London’s bustling streets.

Foreign, warmer climates

That sufficiently cater for wine and feasts.

Land that carries blood through its Black River,

Excuses to not swim in Summer’s heat.

A southern tip that travellers will visit and disparage

A separation of two cultures

As if history teaches nothing

And geography misplaces some from another





II



A plane touches down

And safely carries me to a land

I call home. Where surroundings are

less crowded than London’s bustling streets.

Where old friends gather

To celebrate all those returning home.

The pubs more filled than churches.

Worshippers huddle under a heater,

Hands clasping a pint of black.

A separation of two cultures

once again this year’s Christmas dinner discussion.

As if history teaches nothing

And geography misplaces some from another.

But today, we count ourselves lucky

To sit here as one family.