when torn clouds bared blue holes
the river brimmed with ecstasy.

it had rained the whole day
and she was bursting in seams
to tell her side of the story
from the many
upon her shore's mangrove.

how the tiger guards her treasures,
prawns and ***** and honeys and woods,

pounces from the saline thickness of the mist
when dream of life is heavy on the gatherer
and smell of death far gone forgotten

rips the flesh cracks the skull open
flows the blood as silent night
carries the trophy for a bony rest
till devoured by her floodwater.

the river knows it too well

the tiger is her lover and loyal sentinel.

Natures Lace

All through the night she works, tireless never ceasing
To spin her silken threads
The perfect creation of natures Lace
A silken shimmering web
No hand of man could ever produce such a perfect work of art
With computers and modern technology he wouldn't know where to start
A silken thread floating on air is gathered and put in its place
All this in darkness without pattern or plan
She creates natures beautiful Lace
Each silken strand, stronger than steel
Stronger than anything man can produce
All this from one spider spinning her web
A product of natural juice
With the coming of dawn and a new rising sun
A sight that is sure to amaze
Every tree, every bush, every gatepost
Draped in a gown of gossamer lace

Mutinous clouds like a suit of armour
Obscuring views.
Crescent moon finds a *****
And lifts the mood.

Butter-yellow-cups
shiny surfaced
Up out the Earths great womb-
orb of life's choosing
- home from home
Then back again-
carried around-
The yellowing Sun.

Gently so, the wind did go, go on a-whispering.
And thru the night, into the night, a-whispering
It did go. Go, Sweet Wind, go on a-whispering.  

In mellifluous tones, to the height of Christendom,
Sing a sigh, Sweet Wind, to the ears of ev'ry man.

Gently so, the wind did go, go on a-whispering.
And thru the night, into the night, a-whispering
It did go. Go, Sweet Wind, go on a-whispering.

In mellifluous tones, to the height of Christendom,
Sing a sigh, Sweet Wind, to the ears of ev'ry woman.

Gently so, the wind did go, go on a-whispering.
And thru the night, into the night, a-whispering
It did go. Go, Sweet Wind, go on a-whispering.

the moon was chasing the shadows of the forest,
while the night scurried into the black fields,
placing a small toe into a sorrowful grey cloud
the wind hardly more than a whisper.

and then midnight unwound, blue shadows on grass,
the fields green as dark emeralds,
the clouds dreaming of a soft moon,
and the eye drawn skywards,

filled with forgotten dreams
the wind began to hurry
birds crammed into a bucketful of sky
like flapping pages hinged to a spine.

welcome then to the stomach of night
to moonflower and the bright light that spins
uncovering the stones that lie in the dark moss
revealing the surreal landscape to a broken moon.

welcome then to our love, even more surreal,
as we hold each other close, and shiver like
strange plants wrapped into the black ink of the night
as the world unfolds to kisses and wilderness.

My mind rides the wind and the wind is truly free
but even the wind is subject to a greater freedom

She holds her breath and all is still
and then she blows through the myriad rooted

Across the world of Man who enslave themselves
and do likewise to their fellow Man by acts of delusion

Wind has travelled all and still will not be tamed
her freedom is her gift and it will not be taken from her

She shouts her words silent as night loud as day
but not everyone will hear her or listen to her wisdom.