why are you weeping?
the music of water sings to the stars
and falls to the earth in the rains
seek out the rainbow
satisfy thirst
rest when the sun sinks in the west
the fire is still lit in the hearth
night becomes day soon enough
we are made of water and stardust
we must go with the flow
water will find it’s own course
nothing will stand in the way
dry all your tears and shine
open your heart to the source
earth
brown pebble
i have a pebble
smooth and brown
with a sheen
but unpolished
it sits secure
in the palm of my hand
we went to the garden
just the two of us
i carried a spade
and the ashes
the day was fair
and no breeze blew
my father made
this sheltered space
down among the roses
and here i dug the heavy earth
no marker for this grave
i picked up a pebble
held it
a secret no-one shared
we said a few words
we stood in silence
my mother turned away
i have a pebble
smooth and brown
with a sheen
but unpolished
it sits secure
warmed in the palm of my hand
small
significant
so easily lost
saving the earth?
Show Respect (a Georgic)
for the love of the land
for the love of your home,
act swiftly,
consider the tiny things
that help the larger things grow
remember the balance in all that you do
or be at the mercy of strong winds that blow
and the giants that rattle the earth
and the rise of the floods that will come and go
and the sun that can parch the earth
and remember the times of the ice
the earth will survive
by natures device
but you will be gone from this place
no child will remain to inherit
no forgiveness of grace
will save you from your fate
for the love of the land
for the love of your home
act swiftly,
show no neglect,
before it’s too late,
learn respect
Mud Child (a Haibun)
My first true love was earth, dry earth and water mixed, piling dirt in mounds, trying to shape the mud. Digging, digging, digging, squatted on the earth, pouring water in to make a captured pool. I watched it soak away.
Broken finger nails
Scrabbling at resistant earth,
Burrowing with worms.
Alone I worked day after day, shaded by the Yews, until the puppy came, near as old as I, and just as keen to dig. We worked on side by side, driven by curiosity, searching for the truth or an ancient bone. The earth flew out behind us as we dug the hole.
When would water rise?
Could we find the fearsome fire?
Could we reach the source?
Stopped by tangled roots.
Water ran between my palms,
Mud sucked at my feet.
We ran off to play,
Covered head to toe in earth.
We’d dig another day.
November 5th ~ Fireworks
this is the time when salmon leap
strong swimmers against the flow
reaching the calmer pools
it’s rained all day, softly falling
soaking my old worn coat
silencing all the birds
November trees stand stark and bare
black against flattened clouds
where sodden leaves cloak the paths
when evening falls
the children stand huddled
shining eyed, gripping sparklers
in safely gloved hands
tonight the world explodes
a riot of colour
glittering stars in the dark
rockets reach high
past the chimney pots
bursting in bright mandalas
they fizzle and fall to the earth
acrid smoke fills the cold air
lingers and hangs, long into night
awaiting the grey of tomorrow
the rain keeps on falling
flooding the rivers
soaking into the earth
this is the time to kindle the fires
replacing the summer sun
before the winter comes
The Choice is Pyramids or Circles
the pyramids of greed and power
became our masters long ago
they took the land away from us
and fenced the common pastures
while we were tired and sleeping
are we sleeping still?
we walk on ice above the fires
we hover on a precipice
bind-folded by the wrong desires
our better hopes defeated
how did we come to this?
the storm brings rain to fill the rivers
we complain of changing weathers
we take for granted natures gifts
making wanton use of treasures
every creature great and small
brings blessings to the earth
while we destroy and poison all
how can we be so foolish?
we are earth’s most useless creatures
we will come to understand, too late,
the damage we have done ourselves
in breaking natures circle
we will recognise our awful fate
when we reap the final harvest
join the circle, strong, complete
to guard and bless the garden
there is no greater purpose
the only promised land we have
is here beneath our feet
Night Music
at night, by the waterfall
amid the music of water,
I heard the distant sound of a harp
and a nightingale sweetly singing.
i felt my spirit lift
all was miraculous harmony
magical symphony,
rare gift
beneath the turning stars
the earth under my feet
soft with falling leaves
and the dark smell of loam
silently sounded a deep bass note
to make the concerto complete
The Book
I used to think,
in some indulgent piteous way,
that to die could be quite sweet,
a shuffling off of all things wrong,
an end of pain and transient joy,
but now I think I’d rather stay
to face the burden of the day.
Whatever comes is worth the price
of one more moment in this life
where heaven rests inside a flower.
Such things can fill the saddest hour
if we will only turn and look.
I now delay to close the book.
The Dreaming Path 