One Mindful Moment

Prey

Is this how it feels

To be a fish

gazing up from a pool

or a vole in the undergrowth?

Crows

(Tree of Crows - Caspar David Friedrich, 1822, Musee du Louvre, Paris)

From bare branches, against the low November sun, three crows fly up.

Below them, across ploughed earth - the guns.

 

(Seen during, written after driving back from Hungerford this afternoon,

For Mindful Writing Day - Nov 1 2012, at Writing Our Way Home)

Samhain

Two hares

candle-gaze through the dark.

Against the window glass,

rain trickles down,

wind blows.

 

Falling Leaves

A carpet of dying fragments

Each day replaced, collected,

Heaped, transformed.

In a year...green and yellow

To rich brown gold

 

Bread Oven

How many loaves

For how many people

Over how many centuries

Have been baked in this oven?

Sumach

Autumn flamed fingers

Hang dew-laden, dying

While plush torches of seed

Thrust up winter-proofed life

Captured

Old leather bound journals

Copperplate scripts

Lives pressed & preserved

Like moths, between covers

Autumn Mist

 

October morning…

Heavy clouds weep droplets

On a last rose

 

Royal Engineer

Tiny, paint-bare Sapper waits,

Still head erect, bugle ready

For Isandlwana,

Red Rorke's Drift.

 

Dragonfly

Clinging to the sedge,

A  dragonfly, expanding,

 breathes the world into itself,

then soars -

becomes, itself, a part of the world.