Wild
I took a friend up to the hills that we all know and love
To show her vistas far and wide and peace from high above.
My good friend was a city girl who seldom left the smoke
And somehow took me by surprise when she turned to me and spoke:
She bade me promise I would watch these hills on her behalf,
And pay good heed to clumsy deeds which threaten nature’s path.
“The countryside needs guardians, who care about the land
To keep a home for creatures who live wild and need a hand,
We’re quick to take their homes and once we build they will be gone
And we’ll forget, but soon regret the passing of their song.”
North
We steal north
where peaks are crag and caved
and folk are sketched
with sharpened pencils.
Here rheumatic trees
have spindled pointed knees
and blue noses poke
unseasonal blasted clouds.
Sounds hang sharp
shriek pierce and blow
holes in limestoned earth
invoking snow.
They beckon me in
and back I itch to scratch
a path – thin and poor
but these are peaks I know.
