Solstice Sun.
Under a clear blue bowl of a sky
warm sea slumbers as still
scraps of cloud like spun gauze float by
to let sun shine at will.

Lazy and lapping like coloured flint
around flattened path, more
carbuncle-red light changes tint
to let tide paint the shore.

Life-symbol-sphere wedded to fire,
evening sun throws her cloak
on midsummer day's heated pyre
to let night's grey in-soak.

And I breathless absorbed sky's bold
change as cloudmass diminished
after vivid crimson gauged holes
to let solstice sun sink.

Manifesting in the high noon sky
he swirls, and turning wheels
and dives, while
I in awestruck silence wait,
and breathless wish him nearer my eye
so I could note the size of his wide frame.

Perfection of wildness on the wing,
buzzard bird your freedom
sets my soul a-sing
in praise of courageous will
which dominates yet contains everything
woven like iron bands in feathered steel.

Mewing calls splitting the air resound
as gliding in view another there
impedes one bird's
upward ****** with solitaire  
ballet of female pirouette, gyration slows      
so gentle talons can touch fearsome breast.

Monumental the speed when wills clash,
sparks spread earthward as birds
circle  in victory rush,
while I with bated breath catch
the best moment when nature takes over
as she screams then leads him back home.

Deep and lonely, life's
darkness engulfed me, fear
crouched over my
fragile mind, no freedom
ever pacified saline
tears shed for
despair remained and as
ever ignored me.

Then deep spoke to deep
for from your soul,
flow started a flame, small
yet warming,
your care awoke mine and
healing began as need
lighted my dawn.

Now by love possessed,
sanctuary found in your vows
I have become wholly
changed, there is no longer me,
completely attuned,
we breathe as one, no lonely
spirit alarms me for
I know I hold your heart.

Walking the glade tonight nature first appears right
yet it is not, when mounds of grass convert to browns
too soon, and down by the stream massed butterflies
seem silently caught in fertilized grey shrouds, clouds
of pollution say they breed no more, too weak to flutter.  .
War like this against earth's vale of favour brings claims
of sheer neglect which sees no further than dying bees
and will not question why, from earth, they get no reply.
A few years hence no wishing will recompense for this
for from foolhardiness gross greed created a fatal mess.
Seeing tonight this suffering glade makes me so afraid.