I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world,
to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

19 July 2014

Six Trees

Tribal Recollections 1

The trees are standing in sand
and waving their arms. 
They love me. Their deep green leaves
are up on tiptoe
the better to see me. My little dog
follows behind me, stretching 
and hollowing his back.
His tummy is almost rubbing the ground,
he is so ecstatic. Over behind a boulder
a snake wriggles quietly,
keeping out of our way.
We try not to see him,
while staying on our side of the track.

My hair in the wind
streams out behind me.
I am gazing up
into the wind and into the trees,
up to their leafy tops
above decorated trunks
where rings of different colours
and strange patterns of bark
tell me their age and their health.

Eyes look out from the trunks,
where small creatures hide 
in clefts in the bark
and birds perch almost unseen,
camouflaged, except 
for one in the sky
hovering — ready to alight
or starting to rise and leave? 
I don't know, but I see 
the bird is watching me too
as I linger under the six tall trees.

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