Embers

.

raising the blind

to the gloom of the world

how-so-ever dully it may shine

welcoming the green

vigour of plants

to illuminate the room

even between the tree and I

hanging mist is draped

suspended like a thought

imperceptibly – droplets in vortices

swirling in dreamtime

around the thrush’s wings

as complaining, remonstrating

with a flick of her feathers

she plucks an orange firebrand

from the glowing embers of berries

looks me in the eye – and is gone!

.

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Pupation

.

re-entering the world anew

pupated after three months

of quiet contemplation

today shall I exit my cave

leave my hermit-hood behind

.

will the world be different –

one where the wind blows afresh

or one that has not changed:

even as the sun still shines

which way will the shadows fall?

.

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(untitled)#35

In response to Judith Westerfield's The Heart Of The Battle:

.

do you notice not

the wind that blows against us

it is but the same?

.

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(untitled)#34

In response to Judith Westerfield's Invisible Illness And The White Flag Of Surrender:

.

no resignation!

but accepting of what is

at peace with the world

.

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(untitled)#33

Inspired by On Dragonfly Wings With Buttercup Tea:

.

take my wisps of thought

the ether of my dreams but

never will confess

.

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(untitled)#31

.

elegantly

in the wind – freed from dust

standing alone

.

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