Hello shiny loop of post-shower Rainbow,
you of mosaic-powered striated halo,
and so sages tell, a sign of faith.

You chaste secreter of much potted gold,
crescented magic of arc-perfection
your brilliant mixtures of shaded hues
break raindrops into states
of optic illusion which act as temptation.

Oh consummate sweep of bow-creation,
who can know when and what
day you appear, colourfully naked.

Favour no seekers, oh Rainbow whom
by digging for myth will
selfishly follow roads right to your end.
Make therefore no friends
of illicit searchers for treasure, those
who see you as meant lure
for retrousséd wealth-embellishment.

Rainbow you cover your real blessings
in pseudo-gilt with which
ingratiates have become obsessed.

Sedate then all lucre-lust with a curved
root at each end of your
rain-augmented foot to waylay theft.
Divert and deflect looters with luminous
know-how and curl into
spacial deception before desecration.

Bedazzle all lechers by preventing entry
to any pretentious view
of your sensitive and tremulous end.

You as writhe of kaleidoscope can keep
away crooked schemers
by retaining your varisome irridescence.
Alive with mysterious rays
behave like a ghost loathing the sun, be
as invisible, turn pale, fade,
and disappear to invalidate trespass.

Rainbow hide what is always your own
from blind passers by with
greedy *****-eyes, stay unmolested.

Stretch out your tracery uncontrolled,
a beauteous vision who keeps
her vaulted prism a glorious whole.

If the place which I write from is seen as real
it seems the verse and myself are two
sides of three faces.

Each word has its meaning and is part of a tale
which might well be translated as
me signing my name.

Yet from my inside I catch first breath of Muse
who since noting acceptance begins        
her bid to relate.

Lipless the language that fills my blank canvas
as more semantics she whispers
before they escape.

Thus must I question what does that make me ?

Cornish spring drips and
all growth becomes riddled with
desire for warmth,
ridden with need for having more.

Freshly risen, green
gets liquid-addiction, an invisible
draw makes sward
swoon for regular fixes of water.

Crafty Spring knows
plants crave doses so being fickle
he drops trickles used
to tease shoots upwards for fuel.

Whoresome he opens
cores formerly hidden, then the
illicit physician lopes
in and flippantly erases hopes.

Bold, he impregnates
the deep sleep of inactive nature,
forcing in secret wet
potions to unclothe closed petals.

Then he may withhold
his advances and allow winter's
return to bring nights
of freeze to show is own might.

Old Spring hangs around
to tickle ground's fancy yet Sol's
hard passion he fears
for at start of heat he disappears.

Difference.

Praise for all variation,
that diversified play of colour and shape
which takes away sameness
and paints nature with sheer tessilation.
Hooray for the patchwork
of harlequin stripes in that mackerel sky
or those chequered blotches
embroidered on coats of every dalmatian.
Applause for the hues
shot through peacocks and each rainbow,
those pied streaks in ponies,
marbling of stone, the frets in wide bands
on speckled trout, braided
tattoos over the backs of zebras and tigers
flecked with a motely
collection of artistically peppered mosaics.
Smiles for tri-colours
in butterflies and pibald frogs just made
to reflect luminous wet.
For kaleidoscope difference let praise be
and for all crazed iridescence
seen in the glorious abundance of nature.

As each ebbing tide seaward out-pours
to leave its remembrance
on sand's empty spaces,
as the breakers slip back to clasp shores
before again parting
my thoughts turn to gone embraces.

As life's rollers drag me, heedlessly
back thru' tears unforeseen
where no dry eye ever dwells
on-moving tides bring me no release  
for I see now with regret,

that we had no time for farewells.

Who visits this wild land sees,
in the vision-bright eyes of birds and beasts
where grass, wind-bent
and weather-dried clings to high cliffs
for dear life as granite shelters
no more than hovering feather and rabbits
who stay close to their hides.
Where eagles keep day-watch for movement
in heather of bobbed tails, or white
hopping ears in habitual
cocked wariness then like a knife of forked
light the predators fall.
Fern-fattened fur leaps or freezes
in prey-fright,
eyes glaze and stay frozen as falcon attacks.

Such is the dictum
of law and order among the creatures
surviving in wilderness
yet persist in a fierce kind of freedom.
Who seek for behaviour
in those being true to themselves owns
that this island has places
where human-less only nature controls.

Today, dreams left behind I fall awake,
still dozed I oust myself
out of dark-doldrums, pummeling eyes
and promise the sun to
visit new campion just birthing its buds
up on the heath.
Today I will reach heights above windy
ridges of mist and fill
both my hands with pocketed crumbs to
feed ragged robins
who before breeding sing as they flaunt
red with bold confidence.
Today, courting sweet Cornish morning
I shall go breakfastless
and match Tessa my dog in chasing her
make-believe meals
of dried seaweed, have some fun plying
beached gulls with cuttlefish
bone while taking leaps to the unknown        
on thrift-covered clifftops.
Today I will sand-hop the cloud-shadows
of shifting grey and
voiceless give praise for this boisterous
paradise in which life
thrives, then carpe-ing diem I yawn, get
started and am away.