It’s Dark …

It is dark,

But, don’t miss the point,

Getting lighter by the day.

And don’t forget that,

If we be but brave enough,

We can raise a chorus,

Sing like honey-full bees

On glorious, bright sun days:

Amber and brown;

Rhythms of space,

Textures of time:

Volume without menace,

Power sans anger.

 

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Once And …

Image result for sledge hammer

There is a need

To pound the target,

To keep the breath,

Hold the focus,

Bend to the beat,

Square the shoulders,

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Fearfully From the Trees …

It was dark when he got home. Home after travelling a new journey. A journey that was baulked by diversions, slow drivers, an old man who wasn’t able to judge distances and so, frustratingly decelerated every time a wagon came in the opposite direction; a woman in a SUV who had blazed past them both, leaning on her horn; traffic signals that stayed annoyingly red for his lane of vehicles – whichever lane he was in. The radio traffic updates  had been no help: warnings coming on too late once he was in the serpent of dying motors. That or not at all. The GPS system was malfunctioning, the map keeping spinning and – at best – recalculating.

He took a beer from the fridge, suddenly needing it as the intense concentration of rush hour driving began to ebb away. Passed straight through the house with a grunt to his wife (sitting watching some detective repeat on the large TV). He had made it home. Now just needed to relax. A fraught day. Computers at work locking him out. Share prices falling. The kidnapping of hostages in an out of the way café half way around the world. At least some of them, he was certain would end up dead: when, inevitably the forces of law and order decided to free them. That they would not, could not, could not afford to negotiate. The precedent it would set.

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Another Breath

For the moment –

Though you and I

Are both the poorer for it –

You are the power

(And don’t we all know it!);

You who shout from the screens,

You who worship the silver.

But we the patient peoples,

Of the Tribes of Trees, know

That this moon will change,

That these tides will turn.

So we pull in another breath,

Turn up our collars

And wait.