1.
And so, I clamber up the heavy *****
and sit alone upon a wide, flat rock.

I still the voices clamouring hard within
and try to listen to the air settle and breathe . . .

The eagle swoops low, whirring loud beside the rocky outcrop
likening its talons to sustain the hold of life . . . (this line to be amended ...sounds odd)

Leaves quiver silent on massive trees
obedient to nature, yet roots bold outgrown . . .

Shade reaches and stretches genial arms
while feel of dark and moist, fertile ground pervades . . .

Air thick with teeming life the eye can't see
thrums with invisible threads, linking slow tendrils . . .

Quiet sky looms dignified and peers squinted
while sun rays slant into pores, kiss my cheek.

Beetles scamper light along the soft, red sand
and not unlike them, I seek still the answer within . . .



2.
Fierce fire takes up dry tinder, consumes into heated coils
destroying with relish, yet offer cleansing balm . . .



3.
Sudden rains refresh, glance off surprised face, upturned
sweet deluge leaves all sodden to delighted heart . . .



4.
I turn not away
I look up
to receive . . . gladly.


I give such thanks
fall on knees to see . . .

No red sky (as in my nightmares)
No lost sun
No smoky horizon
No grey trees
No dead leaves.

Only yellow sunshine
Only blue sky
Only green leaves
Only clear horizon

as far as the eye can see.




S T, 8 May 2013

maybe, just maybe, somebody
hollowed out the empty spaces in
the trees at crescent park
just as a secret message to me,
to remind me that it's okay
for beautiful things to feel empty.

Sitting in the after-sun of a chair freshly rained on
Just starting to dry
Wet jeans, who cares, it's nice out
I'm going to read about Odysseus
And all his series of unfortunate events.
I was at the part in the underworld where
all the souls are drinking the blood offering and
giving their past-life histories
When I heard a crinkling,
And peering under the table, saw
a red squirrel (the kind only those who hate non-native species can truly dislike with a passion)
shuffling a cumbersome
brown candy, a milky way
in his handsome claws,
Whiskers twitching as he munched,
Like bouncing eyebrows,
Stuck with
Strands of chewy caramel.
He clutched at his high-calorie treasure,
spitting out gold and silver foil,
black, beady eyes, glistening greedily
as if to say "My precious"
Till he snatches up the last crumble
of chocolate.
I've sat watching-still so long
He approaches my foot
At which I call him a fat little squirrel
And he runs off, indignant
Leaving behind,
His
Desecrated Christmas package.