Around me is dying another day
silently falling in surge of emotion
in the mournful dirge of the dusk
dropping on the black drongo
flying home in dream of dawn
beneath the first star of twilight
blushing in the kiss of sky
heralding another earth evening
celebrating death in the dire need of
resuscitating life.

Simple how the clouds collapse
When tangents merge with metaphors,
How tracks of reason tread the path
Then pass through open doors.
When threads of inspiration sing
As blackbirds in the dew of dawn,
Where crystal light of opulence
Then innocence and fun..…is borne.
A purity of  purpose, suffused in simplicity,
Swaddled and encapsulated, worn with a smile.
Embracing the instant of beautiful freedom
To breathe this sweet air of loveliness, awhile.

M.
The hallowed green of a Taranaki dawn @ Foxglove
9th February 2017

Mirrored silver
tag me blue
reflective sky
widgeon, merganser
blithely sail
broken ripples
foretelling
storm

raucous
cawing crows
assemble
anxious ducks
explode airborne
duly warned
silent drone
fateful wraith

Eagle
glides over
the settling
surface
razor eyes
seeking
the meek
the weak

fleeing flock
coalesces
white bellies
exposed to the sun
banking hard
return to serenity
certain death
deferred

in nature
alliances are clear

predator

prey
vigilantly
warning
relentlessly
defending

Shrieking
crow-beleaguered
Eagle
retreats
no match
for those
united
against him

clouds of linen stretch her skies,
changing depths of blue,
lovely is this -
her Earthrise,
she's something,
from my view,

I look at her
my lovely Earth,
and I,
her soulmate - Moon,
if she shall perish,
so will I,
I hope tho not too soon,

I wonder what inhabits her,
of what's alive out there,
I wonder what she thinks of them,
or if no time to care,

she was designed just perfectly,
a gift in her to give,
sadly took for granted she,
in ignorance can't live,

I wonder if her people know,
the sacred of her planet,
or if destruction comes in flames,
to fight it or to fan it,

they must know
somewhere within,
she's beautiful but dying,
I hope this not the last Earthrise
I hear her gently sighing,
then a thunder roars within,
on knees -
alone,
she's crying,

Hear my voice my sacred people
I'm wounded, I cannot fight
will you hear my final call
before the last goodnight ?

Ma Cherie © 2017

~


for years innumerable
  this generational mystery persisted
     even when the heat radiated down
          and not a shadow would pass

                 the slightest rumbles

not the rumbles of a drifting shelf
    or the slipping of a plate far away
         but something similarly natural
                 and soothing

                  cozy and nestled in a cradle
                   kits slept against grey skin
                   edges softened and worn
                   offering the perfect bassinette
                   to another family of foxes

a strong wind tipped a tree
     crumbling mountain found a canyon below
          the snows came and ice stretched deep
                 separating basalt and sedimentary
                      I felt myself falling apart

It was after this harshest of winters
     I began to notice different sounds...

the constant steady clicking
       of a raven cracking filberts
             upon my exposed bones

the trickling of a nearby stream
   carrying away pieces of my body
        rolling them smooth
               sending them to lands
                    I would never see
            
and the foxes

each early spring and late summer
      they would return to my womb
               bring forth new life
                     from the belly of a stone

I have lost count….
     how many babies have I held
              how many soft toes have explored my veins
                    how many light yips from the depths
                             have lulled me to sleep
                                          when strong winds blow
                                                 and the trees begin to lean    /