When all you have is broken
And all you loved seems gone
Walk back to nature’s healing
Where human life was born.
Cool rivulets and rocky coves
The motion of moon tides
The swoop of sea birds in the place
Where sea and shore collide.
Walk on her perfect beaches
Feel sand between your toes
Look past the furthest reaches
Of all we’ll ever know.
We’ve come too far away from her
And somehow must return
Forgive and find our feet again
It’s not too late to learn.
When summer beats upon the shore,
we’ll stand and watch its hue, allured
by Nature’s power and grace, as if
in awe… as if in her immortal face
we find some comfort, some respite
from human cares.
So in my prayers I call the sea,
in dreams I gather clouds;
beyond all bounds I call on Nature’s dignity
to dress this broken rock
with warmth and tender flowers.
There’s a wasp between my fingers
and a bee behind one ear,
Two slugs above my eyelids
and a bird’s nest in my hair.
My body is a tree trunk
my mind a crooked path,
My life juice is a river
my feelings are a raft.
Fulfilling earth’s intention –
imperfect and impure,
with love as my redemption,
intuition at my core.
Respect the daddy longlegs
Get with his knobbly knees
Take care his fragile body
Treat kindly if you please.
He doesn’t like your vacuum
He doesn’t often rest
But hangs about the corners
It’s just where he feels best.
The daddy doesn’t harm you
He’s generally good
He eats the things that pester
and is misunderstood.
Respect the daddy longlegs
if you see him on your floor
please cup him very gently
and let him out the door.
Upon Mow Cop, there stands a castle keep.
Close by on high my humble tent is pitched.
Soon, snug in nature’s covers lie me down to rest.
Light stays up late in May’s last restless gasp
and those who latch and lock miss this great blessing.
Close by on high my humble tent is pitched.
In night’s deep lull, there is a frosty chill,
which holds me to the earth and marks my bed,
and those who latch and lock miss this great blessing.
With morning dew I dip and rise anew,
my body fresh with hospitality,
which holds me to the earth and marks my pitch.
And Biddulph stretches morning arms aloft.
The cows stand tall to greet the coming day.
My body fresh with hospitality.
Toil beckons and I pack my tent away
and boil a kettle on my little stove.
The cows stand tall to greet the coming day.
Soon, snug in nature’s covers lie me down to rest.
We have this habit of defining
the nature of our beast
and an eye for definition
which may limit, or at least
prevent us from evolving
in a helpful sort of way
to keep up with our surroundings –
the environments at play.
.
There are countless endless junctures
at which our cells could switch
from those well-remembered patterns
to a stronger bolder stitch
but our stubborn prolongation
of the sequences we know
keeps us circling our shelter
even when the changed winds blow.
Persistent coughing
assuaged with clay sage pipe:
inhaling nature.
Today, midweek, I’m garden chilling,
no pesky mean metal mamas mowing,
they are the weekend boys.
Nope, just me and the big blue sky
and hey, you know what even?
That old Sun is shining.
Then what happens? Dang.
Those flaunty sparrows tip the Tit and Jay
I’ve got seed!
and that’s the end of peace for today.
They get so close I am moving up!
In my own garden! Seriously.
But this is not the main deal yet –
Well bless my odd socks,
the entire ‘nature thing’ begins
make the biggest darn racket ever:
bees bumbling, crows cawing,
old man Slug chewing on me lupin…
My garden so loud the world is rocking!
Well, think on it. Be churlish to vamoose.
This is some kind of party, maybe?
Nature doing what Nature does pretty well.
So
I am coming out, creepy sneaking
from under my pot. Segments waving,
fourteen hip dancing legs grooving at a time.
Get with Nature’s freaky beat,
Coz, creatures, we are the party!
we are the real deal.
I’m telling you. Come on down my garden!
Give it some WOODLOUSE WELLY!
Walk out with me in morning feet,
along the edge of spring,
still steeped in snow, our woollen coats
pulled hard against the wind.
There, gowned and slippered, see she stands,
Nature is summoning the land,
It’s time to shine
It’s time to shine
She holds the sunlight in her hand.
Walk out with me in morning feet,
and catch the swooshing loud,
of Nature smoothing cotton sheets
and plumping pillow clouds.
She lifts the verdant grass to grow
and lusty, showered in the dew,
It’s time to shine
It’s time to shine
will dress our hillside all anew.
Walk out with me in morning feet,
to greet the waking day,
when preparations are complete
and humans on their way.
Our breakfast on the quilted hill
a secret unrevealed until
It’s time to shine
It’s time to shine
She sweeps our breadcrumbs from her sill.
Forgotten
in locked allotments
bracing brass monkey feet
she
dug
deep
with clenched teeth
through frozen clods
customarily turning over old leaves
until
she slipped
and gripping glass
g
u
i
l
l
o
t
i
n
e
d
her pinkie finger tip.
.
As shock welled
to fill iced water butts
she saw her isolation reflected hard as winter
and lifting her mangled digit
in surrender
staggered bleeding to the gate.
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