Tag Archives: Nature

Mongrels

We are all mongrels:

our genes all spent time

somewhere else, on

cold tundra, windswept

steppe, damp jungle,

hot savannah, in

bogs or genteel shires,

cantonments or kraals; on

Viking ships or galleons,

slavers or dugout canoes we

spent ourselves about the world so

not one of us is pure.

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Life Curves

Life Curve

I knew behind those clouds were

stars, just the ones I could see, and

behind them stars and stars and

yet more stars

 

but so what when

life is almost but

not quite, close but

no cigar? Well maybe

 

half-empty or half-full

life curves away from

mystery to the

stone kicked, the

 

moment we have all felt when

our dreams must

give way to a

different reality.

This Aye Night

I heard the first fleeing geese

this evening at 7 pm under

reddening skies, Sunday

September 16th, 2018.

 

Why am I so precise? Well

it was a warm day, one of

many and no threat of

change to weather or forage.

 

It might have been some subliminal call

triggered by the approaching equinox, or

maybe just one goose panicked,

honked out, “Quick, let’s go!”.

 

And we know how panic grows at the

thought of being left alone with

night falling and a

long way to go.

 

At a quarter to eleven this

same night I heard a fox bark or

perhaps a dog barking at the

thought of a fox.

 

Moths

The long Summer, the open door, light

make my kitchen a

moths cathedral, or rather

their mausoleum.

 

They fluster round my fingers when

once they used to

make me quail and

swat and kill.

 

So fears once ferocious pass with the

sough of a soft wing amidst these

fragile carapaces, these

powdery lost souls.

Kindling

Kindling

The night’s a hearth,

the Moon its fire, and we,

poor feral creatures,

merely kindling.

Mysterious Light

Mysterious Light2

The inevitable tumbling of

Earth and Moon sometimes

involves us in

mysterious light

Unseen Gods

The bird seems so urgent

as though it carried

some secret message from

one unseen God to another.

Cloud-Arks

I want to board those

strange dark shapes of the horizon

those cloud-arks

fully-freighted and

already shipping out south on a

freshening breeze

bearing me

wherever they please.

Spring/Summer

The daffodils are blown, the

tulips past their best, the

blossom snows in

sudden squalls as

leaves unfurl and

Spring’s mayhem

slowly gives way to

Summer’s drab somnolence.

Hopscotch

Hopscotch

Either nature likes sending

complicated equations to

tease our cerebral cortex or

it has a bizarre notion of

how to play

hopscotch.

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