Sometimes the fox’s bark
Pierces the dark
As our bodies meet
Under comforting sheets.
A girl’s soft kiss
And exploring hands
Can command my lust.
But your bark,
So cold and sharp
Speaks of dust.
The Fox’s Bark
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Tag Archives: the natural world
Progress
I saw the lightning flash
Across the sky
And heard the crash
Of thunder
And I
Paused to wonder
On those who stress
The inevitability of human progress
Continuity
I touched a split tree
Which still stood
Reminding me
Of the Great North Wood.
I am of modernity.
Yet my heart
Is part
Of this old split tree.
There stands outside my window
Another tree
Here long before me
And when I go
Others seeing these 2 trees
May know they are part
Of nature’s great heart
And know continuity with me.
Late Autumn
On a day
In late November
A cold autumn breeze
Rustles through the trees
Seeming to say,
“A freezing December
Is on its way”.
I Do Not Fear Another Dying Year
I do not fear
Another dying year
But simply pass
Along the churchyard path
Observing these fallen leaves.
Autumn does not deceive.
But lust
Does, I find
Distract the mind
From dust,
While autumn time reminds
Us that we all
As autumn leaves
Must fall.
On an Autumn Day
On an autumn day
I heard the sound
Of children at play.
My brown
Has gone grey.
Leaves fall
And the ground
Takes all
Our leaves away.
Scattered Leaves
At night
I rhyme
Of scattered leaves
And fleeting time.
After Tea and Homemade Cake
After tea
And homemade cake,
And the crossword,
We heard,
Sitting in a London garden,
A wild, screeching sound.
“What was that?”, I said.
“A fox with it’s prey”.
Soon the screeching ceased
And our sunny day
Returned to peace.
A quick death
Is best.
And the dead
Read no romanticising poetry
Of death.
Obsession
Why do I
Obsess over fallen leaves?
Should I lie
And try to pretend
There is no end?
Trees do not grieve
For fallen leaves.
Nor will I,
For all must die.
Yet I see
A poignant beauty
In these bare trees
And Autumn leaves.
Civilisation
Walking through these sweet scented leaves
I know autumn has come.
A solitary bird
Sings somewhere in the cool air.
While outside these sheltering trees
Civilisation goes on
And a few solitary birds
Sing their song
Of empires long since gone.
K Morris - Poet 