A Change of Climate

Swish of tyres on tarmac, passing,

sunshine streams, pooled pavements,

broad silvered snail trails of light,

reflection rippled in shallow puddles,

dark stark trees, spider limbs.

The sky is white, blinding, bright.

 

Up above a magpie screeches

it splits the air, startles me.

I squint my eyes to see

a flurry of feathers, a turn, a spin

the sky expands, all is dazzle,

sparkling shimmers, lifting wings.

 

A flock of migrating starlings taking flight

my heart rises up, follows

as they dip, turn, rise again

patterns shifting, riding air flows,

take direction, vanish to a far horizon

I may never see again.

 

Red earth that burns your feet,

rising dust walled by dried out mud,

cold shade in fountained courtyards,

the call to prayer at dawn

above green and golden minarets,

African heat, a dream.

 

 

 

The Ride

at the edge of a western wood we stood,

quiet horse, forest breeze, golden wheat

all was good, all was plenty,

spread out far and wide beneath us

 

he set his head

to the distant east

master of power

master of grace

 

the miles rolled away

under his feet

drums to his gallop

beats to his pace

 

ahead in the distance

minarets shone

gleams of the sun

reflected heat

 

he slowed in the fields of asphodel

a place of quiet and gentle shades

on the cedar scented summer air

he stopped to rest and gain his breath

 

I never found my purpose there

nor the reason why we came

I left him then, journeyed alone

still haven’t found my way back home

from the dangerous, thrilling, sudden ride

to the fields of the asphodels