nourish

this evening,
filling the birdbath
while the sunbirds gather
singing jewel bright songs
on jasmine twines

mulching between
rows of greens
for the warming days

picking first peas
by the setting sun –
enough for cooking
in the pods
warm with butter

feeling the day
stretch
towards summer.

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making light

you asked how light worked,
why plants were green,
how the visible spectrum
implies existence
of the invisible –

and i would have
answered best i could
but a lightness
had come home with us
and now the evening sun
low through trees
was spilling the room,
flooding your forest eyes with laughter,
and even the colour of shadows
had us slapping the table
with illogical hilarity –
the moment implausibly
luminous.

 

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in the beginning

it is not
the naming of birds,
wings outstretched
across the morning,
that makes us
particularly human

though they say and they say
(and we live our lives
by they says)
that it is our language
that gave us dominion over all –
but language was not enough
to do what we have done.

words of power
could remake the world
as fast as our muttering
destroys it,
were it not for greed
and our particularly
human obsession
with building
and shaping the world
to our own broken form.

 

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linger,

because
it is late.
because
there are stars
dilute by the light
of a luminous moon.
because
jasmine hangs heavy
in the dew dark air.
because
time has been racing
towards this perfect now.

 

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bird moon

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the birds swallowed the moon.
it sank – fell into the trees
from the soft forest sky –
corn yellow and full round
it fell.
the birds swallowed
the moon this morning
called their victory
from the shadows
and sang its rushing ocean beauty,
bright nights and pulsing trees.

the birds swallowed the moon
turned their backs on winter
sang the song of the living.