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lord
i am grateful
for all the friends
who stood by me in my hour of need
forgive me my arrogance
in thinking i lived life on my own
let the meaning of my life
be a prayer
like a river
a clear and sparkling river
that circles all the earth
and cleans it of aggression ....
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the light which rises each morning
to paint the trees with gold
hides the blackbird
looking at the bronze wing
says i am here
do you not see me?
how do we miss
such loveliness
when we refuse to open our eyes
is a total mystery
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who lived here once
before me on this dark
fertile cracking soil
standing tall with one leg
bent resting on the other
waiting for a kangaroo
spear shooting home
to feed his family
tribe around a fire
watching wood bring life
for them to go walkabout
the gum tree knows
life seems full of sorrow
according to the press
yet do birds mourn
over an egg smashed on the ground
its life giving yolk
devoured by ants
leaving not a trace
of the hard worked gatherings
for a feather lined nest
chicks grow bold
loudly demanding to be fed more
and more more more
there is no end to more....
deliver us from excess news....
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the road to Emmaus
has been destroyed
made into a black hole
no man wants to mend
the guiding spirits
hide their faces in shame
having been banned by soulless men
tears like rivers
wash over this desolate land
even the moon withholds
its healing powers
and all we can do to help
is send shekels
while our hearts break
for the people who mourn
still the sun will rise
and no one can hide
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recall us to our duty
of admiring the wood ducks
hatching their eggs in tree hollows
far above the ground
ducklings falling like
down covered table tennis balls
bouncing on the earth below
of being amazed
at the tiny seedling tree
accomplishing great height
after many years shading
cracked soils in hot summers
of being terrified with awe
at violent thunderstorms
blasting suddenly overhead
lighting up the ghostly forest
with horses running wild
we will attend each new day
with renewed wonder
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look look
at these fuchsia flowers
there is theater here
their skirts lifted with enthusiasm
showing their purple knickers
their long pink legs
with red and gold slippers
dancing to the tune
of the blackbirds spring song
backed by the double bass
of the bronze wing pigeon
were you looking for something?
here are your rod and staff
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we are being ensnared
with ever more algae
demanding to know why
our yellow isn't green
our attitudes not theirs
yet our call is important to them
as we wait and wait and wait
rendered inert with their muzak
so we give up in despair
finding solace under the holm oak....
soothed by nature's songs
