the tree harbours her little leaves
grinning as they mingle
and dance about in the warm breeze
one little leaf shook more than usual
catching the tree's attention
the tree turns her branch
as the green leaf adjusts positions
the tree asks 'what is it, my child?'
'what is making you shiver?'
the little leaf shrugs, but replies
'I'm tired of swaying in one spot, sacred mother'
the tree is taken aback; syrup gone cold
'what's wrong with swaying here?'
the leaf sighs, ready to fold
'I'll never see the world, and that is what I fear'
the tree slouched, nodding her head
'I birthed you to love, not to fear'
the leaf felt a tug, her stem coming loose
'explore the world. happy flight, my dear'
the leaf smiled at the news
feeling the wind in her petal
she waved goodbye to her mother tree
as she took flight
in the heat of the night

Two bold butterflies flutter by
Like lovers, reaching up to kiss the sky

Down swoops a radiant raven
Beak open and ready for the kill

Yet as it speeds down
It falters and glides past

Today it spares the lovers
While it carries on it's merry way looking for another meal

They were ignorant to the danger,
Consumed by eachothers love and blind to the world

The raven was like a warning of an unavoidable conflict
Possible to stall, inevitable in the end

But not today,
Today is for the butterflies

the quiet frog is smiling still, sitting in his swamp

not for him the loud displays of garish regal pomp

no clothes to wear, he wouldn't dare

his candles have no tallow

yet you can tell he wears life well, sitting in the shallow



beside his bed, he is quite read, lie his watery books

late at night, tucked up tight, he reads to babbling brooks

when this is done he checks his gun, though you might think it's silly

a human tried to kill him once and wrecked his favourite lily


he reads the classics every day, is well up on his Dickens

the books he loves the very most are those where plots will thicken

Richard Burton heard him once and loved his baritone

He listened quite intently and made that voice  his own


when he reads a verse or two and that frog knows many

so many insects gather round you'd think they're ten a penny

'Again, Again'! those creature cry when he has reached the end

It really is a treat to hear their pumping hearts all mend


One day he shocked the little swamp, yes it was quite risky

they never heard the likes before, who was Charles Bukowski?

Then he read them Sylvia Plath and really wowed the crowd

You never heard a din like that they clapped so very loud


the quiet frog is smiling still, sitting in his swamp

not for him the loud displays of garish regal pomp

no clothes to wear, he wouldn't dare

his candles have no tallow

yet you can tell he wears life well, sitting in the shallow

Let the rivers flow around me, and between rocks flow
Lead flowers to bloom, and seeds to grow,
And drain in the big well evanescence.

Between all rainforests, and all mountains
And all forests, and all fountains, I have chosen you
My choice drains in the big well of myriad choices.

Count it like sand grains in the prodigious dune
And wonder what’s behind the moon
The space drains in the big well of light and darkness.

Send me free like wild horses,
Like antelopes, stampede on earth as natural forces
The stampede drains in the big well of ignorance.

Hit me like an avalanche, like an earthquake
And wet my clothes with floods, and dry it with droughts
The wishes drain in the big well of fallen thoughts.

Leave me in the Alps, in the coves, and forget me in the giant ocean,
And fly back with dragonflies in slow motion
I, myself drained in the big well of oblivion.

Border my world with the equator, the estuary, and rainbow
Border each continent with reefs, and with flakes of snow
The borders drain in the big well also.

Erase it with streams and lakes, even with spores and dew
And with hail, clouds, and tulips wash it new
And drain it in the big well of nothingness.

Pour everything in a bucket
Chain it and lock it
And drain it in the big well of satisfaction.

Reach out like the branches of a tree reaching towards the sky
Towards the heavens … Towards the light
Feel the stroke of the sun on your face
Stretch as far as you can … Reach for the farthest star
For when you retrieve you will descend to where you’re meant to be