nature

A Little Bit of Moonlight

 The moon has a crooked yellow smile

French crooning airs all the while

I walk with my brothers, three,

My brothers walk with me.

We rinse our soles in the dew,

Blessed as the starry secret’s few,

Alone I tire, but now together we’ve flown

They are my fire. They are my stone.

Love vibrates in my hands.

Lighting up like lunar sands.

I have her voice in my pocket,

Heart in my locket.

A tender word from the night,

From the dark data sea, out of sight.

Given by the stork of the stars,

A little piece of moonlight is ours.

Surely I know this love is no phase,

When she whispers verse not phrase

“A million worlds await” she spoke

And the night of our youth is a smoke

That is worthy

Of poetry.

Épinettes

Sur les épinettes,

Entre les broussailles de notre jeunesse

Et le tronc de nos vieillesses

Nos écorces s’émiettent

 

Bois muet,

Secouer de murmures

De vielles enflures

Dance le menuet

 

On s’émousse

Un souffle se glisse

Le soleil chauffe nos cuisses

Et toujours on pousse

Massacre Of The Yard

Should one of the creatures with the ability to decipher these very written words visit the place in which the following story unfolds they would surely find nothing spectacular. The bland tranquil openness would most likely be of little interest, and the upon digestion of the scene the spectator might condense it in the rather unexciting verbal epitome of “Yard.”   However, for the seeing eye the area was buzzing with life, and the colours blended in spectacular tapestry. The other senses were tickled with the odours mixing in perfumed fragrance, and the humming of a beautiful symphony played by a cross section of instruments of Nature that filled the space. “Preposterous!” the reading and speaking creature might exclaim, but one mustn’t speak too soon, for it is not Nature who is mute but Man who is deaf. Unfortunately, for the Yard even a slight sensibility to listening would make no difference here, for every time Man came to the Yard he came with such a being-penetrating, air-shaking, ground-rattling, and roaring companion that nothing could be heard at all. (more…)

The Little Tree That Almost Could

I remember a quiet suburb surrounded by a nice forest and a relative natural silence, the kind that can’t be found there anymore. I still remember the kitchen that I would run around in, and remember playing on the driveway of that first home. Then, my family tree grew: sister was born, and we moved to a new house further from town.

Down the main road that brought us to the intersection with lights, cars, and people were a few shaded homes, rolling fields that would grow grass and flowers, or sometimes crops. I recall the forest along this road that stretched around the fields. One morning when my sister could toddle and I was getting rides to my early years of school, I noticed an abandoned barn that had the roof caved in.  I had seen it before, but now it was changing in appearance. I noticed a young sprouting tree, making the most of the rain-time and sunshine pouring in from the caved roof, planting its young roots in life just like me. (more…)