There is a frame of mind
that says “leave as you find.
Let the great oak alone
and spare the ancient stone
for they serve a purpose
if one looks beneath the surface
of things”.
Others bring
to bare a mind
which no beauty doth find
in oak and stone
“for they stand in the way
Of a brighter day”.
“But if you pull the tree down
what then supports the ground?
For the roots go deep
and people weep
when the oak falls
on ancient halls”.
“Let us wield the axe and be glad
for the old ways are bad.
New seed we will sow
The past must go”.
They are arguing still
As the sun sinks
o’er vale and hill.
Tag Archives: nature
Tree
Do you think of me
As you stare at a tree?
Beauty makes us free
If we can see
Beyond the tree.
Early Morning Walk
My dog snuffles
and scuffles
amongst the leaves.
He is just there
With no care
For what I think
As I drink
In the fresh morning air.
Hurricane
I want to come in.
The din
I make.
The trees I shake.
I awake
the old fear
Of nature wild and near.
People quale indoors.
There is no applause
when the gale doth come.
Animals run
for shelter
helter skelter
seeking release
from the hurricane’s teeth.
The morning brings peace
And trees
Lying amongst fallen leaves.
Awakening To Wind Chimes
Awakening to the sun’s light
I listen with delight
to wooden wind chimes.
Their music delicate and sweet
has not disturbed my sleep.
Now heres the thing
you can not catch the wind.
It goes where it will
over dale and hill.
As a child it blew
through
our home
whistling in the chimney
as I sat alone
reading many a fable
at our oak table.
The gale inspired no fear
then
and when
I hear
it blowing near
today
I pray
it will blow all this away.
Albatross
The wind howls
as the environment scowls
on ersatz man
who can
only cower
At nature’s power.
His tower
shiny and new
may see him through
But the old gods wait
And ‘tis getting late.
Thor raises his hammer
Drowning out the yammer
Of man who plays on the Titanic’s dek
an albatross about his neck.
Warbling
Listening to commercial radio
The warblers come and go.
Photogenic girls fill my brain
With the same
Or similar sound.
Autumn leaves strew the ground.
I reach for the off switch.
Oh what bliss!
In the garden a bird calls.
Leaves whirl and fall
And the warbling is lost, beyond recall.
Listening To The Morning
The sun on my bookcase.
Books, their plain binding suffused with light.
Cars pass.
The song of the bird, here then gone.
The traffic continues on
Swishing as the great tide
That ebbs and flows.
The bird sings again
Competing with the vehicles noise (and winning)!
A crow khaws once.
A woodpecker joins in.
9:40, sitting at my computer, listening to the morning.
The Fatal Bellman
Waking from a strange dream
I hear the fatal bellman toll.
‘Tis Macbeth’s owl
Signifying death.
A warm bed
On a dark October morn.
My fancy
And the cold note of an owl hunting.
From The Dark We Come And To The Dark We Shall Return
We come out of night.
Oh brief delight.
The song of the bird
A loving word
All are heard.
Nature’s scent
Our lives are spent
In joy and pain.
In the end ‘tis all the same.
From the dark womb
We come
For a time dally under the sun
Then to the tomb.
It is over all to soon.