Tag Archives: butterflies

LORD OF THE JUNGLE

In the Jungle of the Worldand the tangle of the Senseswe build us hutsof mud and heartacheand make (and mend) our fragile fences.“This is ME! This is MINE!”is the burden of our song. We cannot see, still less define,that pain … Continue reading

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THE FOUNTAIN

The fountainreaches upwards into spaceand, finding nothingto sustain it there,falls back into its proper place. And in this endlessrise and fall,we see the start and finishof us all. Time fliesthrough summer and through wintry skies;measures elephants and butterflies,marks where this … Continue reading

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MID-SEPTEMBER SUN

Dry and ripening:sea flat and shininglike burning glass. Gulls floatinglike ducks on a giant’s pond. Small Coppers, Blues and Hairstreaksplayinglike blown leavesin parched grass. Victoria plums,blackberries. This is the turningof the yearwhen all that is thought of as ‘there’is found … Continue reading

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VISITORS AND VISITATIONS

Up Hillcrest steps to wherethe crumbling, grey, defining wallbecomes a bareand narrow ledgeholding back the jungle of beyond.Honeysuckle, fern and brambleslowly ambleand quietly digestthe Hillcrestfence.(A peaceful study in impermanence.) On the boundary hedge,a green and flowering ivy has blossomed therein … Continue reading

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GETTING INTO HOT WATER

The forest is dense and undisturbed,the trees high and overshading,the birdsong harsh and shrill,the giant cicadas persistentlike throbbing brass. Paths have been clearedand wooden bridges laidover a latticework of hot yellow streams.These infiltrate the vegetationand send up clouds of steam. … Continue reading

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APRIL

April was hot and dry. The red earth respondedby blowing as dust in the wind.The green earth respondedby smothering itself with flowers of a thousand colours. The Water Board respondedby banning hosepipesand promising to charge morefor redistributing the rain(if it … Continue reading

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RIGHT VIEW

In the Jungle of the Worldand the Tangle of the Senseswe build us huts of mud and heartacheand make (and mend) our fragile fences. ‘This is me! That is mine!’is the burden of our song.We cannot see, still less definethat … Continue reading

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