The crisp crunch of my footsteps as I crossed that frosty field Confirmed to me the joy that winter brings; The frail but wondrous sunlight burning through the morning mist Affirmed a world of wonder in all things.
It brought to me a memory of those long days of my youth, When all was young and all life was tomorrow, When time and love and right and wrong were not things I considered, Just the lasting joy which Nature can bestow.
Tomorrow was a world away from the life that I live now; No anguish that my world might cease to be Before I’d felt and savoured all that life can have to offer, Before the sun sets on that ancient tree.
Despite my knowledge of the pain that’s in the world around me, Bleak Nature seeks to calm its shifting shadows, The seasons, sun, the starlight, still remain to bring us hope, That vital spark from which renewed life flows.
My second experiment with the poetic form – The CHERITA . . .
‘Cherita’ is the Malay word for story or tale. A cherita consists of a single stanza of a one-line verse, followed by a two-line verse, and then finishing with a three-line verse. It can be written solo or with up to three partners. (See the website at: https://www.thecherita.com for further information).
The wind rustled the branches.
The bird held tight, Swaying with its motion,
Another bird landed beside her She flew off To find her own branch.
Of a tree transmogrified the resurrected dead felled to humanity’s purpose nature sampled purposed flotsam birthed by inspiration gathered and garnished tortured timber carved and hewn pared and whittled twisted turned and polished into burled jewels ornamental gems passed over life re-modelled re-moulded into a new existence allowed to live again in resurrected splendour through the craftsman’s art
Time best-spent in re-creating beauty from death’s discarded bones
Each day The rising sun chases the moon away To hide its limpid light From the brightness of day. Cowed in its lair Within the darkness Of its sylvan hideaway, Preferring to lie With the leaves And squirrels And, as Clytie, Watch the skies, Following Helios’s chariot, Gazing as he Arcs the heavens, Jealous of his power, Fearful of his revenge Were she ever to show her face In his presence. Ever allowing her nemesis To hold sway Over the new day, Commanding the attention of the world And continuing his journey; The dominant presence In the cerulean sky.
When is the moon not a moon? … When it is sunlight in a circular mirror.
The three photographs are of a reflection in a window of daylight, itself reflected in a circular mirror and back onto the glass of the window. All photographs by me – March 2017 … Roland (WHB)