LAND WRITES

AUTUMN

I STARE OUT THROUGH RAIN STAINED WINDOWS,
ACROSS THE CRUMBELING CONCRETE WASTELANDS
SHADOWED STREETS AND GREY BUILDINGS
DRY GHOSTS OF LEAVES SCATTERED
IN DOORWAYS AND CORNERS,
CLUMSILY PILED IN
NICOTINE STAINED HEAPS WHERE THE AUTUMN
WINDS HASTILY ABANDONED THEM
THEY CRUMBLE AND TURN TO DUST,
DISAPPEAR INTO CRACKS IN THE CONCRETE.

TIME MOVES AS SLOWLY AS THE SUN
AND THESE DAYS ARE LONG

NAKED CROOKED FINGERS
OF TWISTED DISFIGURED TREES
STAND OUT UNASHAMED AGAINST
THE PALE GREY SKIES
THE CHILDREN RED CHEEK-D AND RUG-D AGAINST
THE NORTHERN WINDS PLAY
IN THE SMALL BACK YARD BEHIND
OUR HOUSE
PIGEONS ROOST ALONG THE SHELTERED ROOF
OF OUR SHED
AND I AM LOST IN THE WONDERING
THE DREAM
AS SUDDEN AS THE THOUGHT
I AM BLINDED IN BRIGHT GOLDEN LIGHT
THE AUTUMN SUN CASTING ITS IMAGE
BETWEEN BANKS OF BRUISED
DARK CLOUD

I SHARPEN MY PENCIL WITH
A SMALL SHARP KNIFE
MOVING FREELY ACROSS THE PAGE
I SKETCH A DREAM MORE
REAL THAN THAT WHICH
SURROUNDS ME

EVENING
THE BRIGHTEST STAR MOVES TO
THE HORIZON WHERE THE SUN
SO SILENTLY LEFT
A WHITE NIGHT OWL CALLS
THE HUNTERS MOON TO
SHINE ITS GREAT ORANGE EYE
THROUGH THE STILL GATHERING MISTS
THE WINDS CARRY THE SMELL OF RAIN
AND BURNT GOLDEN LEAVES TUMBLE WESTWARD
AS THE STORM GROWS NEARER

THE FRUITS AND GRAINS
ARE HARVESTED
THERE IS FOOD ENOUGH FOR ALL
THE SEASON HAS BEEN RICH
AND NOW WE REST
BEFORE
THE NEW CYCLE
BEGINS

WINTER

WINTER RAIN
NIGHT
THE FIRE GROWS SMALLER
DAMP SMOKE BLEEDS FROM
BARK AND STICK SHELTER
THE ANIMALS ARE FEW
AND THE BITTER COLD HAS
DRIVEN THE FRUITS AWAY
WE HUNGER
BUT DO NOT STARVE
THE NIGHT IS NEARLY
WITH US
THE CHILDREN SLEEP
AS CHILDREN DO
EVERYWHERE
MY BLACK EYES,
CENTRED ON A POINT
OF DARKNESS REMEMBER
TWENTY SEVEN SEASONS
OF THE COLD
SOME WORSE THAN OTHERS
THIS ONE BETTER THAN
NONE
I SHARPEN MY SPEARS
AS IF UNCONSCIOUS
I SCRATCH A SCAR
FROM ANOTHER BATTLE,
A LONELY BIRD
FORGOTTEN BY ITS OWN KIND
CRIES OUT TO THE GATHERING LIGHT
A LONG SLOW NOTE,AND
I UNDERSTAND
WE ARE NOT ALONE
IN OUR HUNGER

TOGETHER WE WAIT

THE SUN BURNS
PALE YELLOW LIGHT
THROUGH COLD LOW CLOUD
AND EVERYTHING
IS BLINDING WHITE
A PERFECT SMOOTH COVER
BROKEN ONLY BY MY OWN
LONELY FOOTSTEPS
MAYBE TODAY A COLD
SLOW RABBIT
MAYBE A WOLF
THERE ARE NO FRESH TRACKS
THE SNOW IS NEW
MY TRAPS ARE EMPTY
I FOLLOW MY FOOTSTEPS
BACK TO OUR FIRE

TOMORROW
MAYBE TOMORROW

THE MOON IS NOW DARK
BY THE TIME IT BECOMES
FULL AGAIN,THE
SNOW WILL MELT
THE RIVERS WILL FLOW
THE FISH WILL SWIM
THE HUNTING WILL BE RICH
OUR BELLIES WILL
BE FULL AND
OUR EYES CONTENT WITH
EVERY KIND OF FLOWER
AND WHEN THE CHILDREN DREAM
IT WILL BE OF
SPRING

SPRING

THE HUNTERS STEADY EYE
THE TIME OF THE RED
DRAGONFLY,THE BRIGHT
ORANGE FUNGI,THE SPOTTED EGG
THE GREEN FLY,
A SKY FULL OF FLOWERS
A FIELD FULL OF GREEN
THE SPEAR STRIKES TRUE
BROWN FEATHERS AND A
DAMP BLOODY SOAK
WHERE IT FELL
ENOUGH MEAT
FOR ONE DAYS
FOOD

BEFORE RETURNING HOME
THERE ARE THREE MORE
EVEN THE DOGS EAT WELL
TONIGHT,THE SKY PURPLE AND RED
A SUNSET OF FIRE STARS
CLIMBING AS HIGH AS
THE EAGLE FLIES
THEN GONE

IN THE WINDS
OUR ANCESTORS SONGS
A LOW WARM SOUND
WE DANCE,OUR EYES
NOT SEEING,FULL MOON
RISING OVER MOUNTAINS
TO THE EAST,THE NIGHT
SHINES SILVER ACROSS
THE BLACK WATERS
COOL BREEZE QUENCHES
OUR BURNING
THIRSTS

THE BIRDS SING THE SONG
OF MORNING AND EACH
DAY GROWS HOTTER
SOON THE YOUNG FAT
BIRDS WILL FLY,THE
WATERS WILL DRY
SOON WE MUST TRAVEL SOUTH
THROUGH THE MOUNTAINS
TO THE LOW LANDS
FIELDS FULL OF WILD FOOD,AND
DEEP SHADED RIVERS THAT
SNAKE AWAY
TO THE GREAT OCEAN
THE END OF THE WORLD
WE MUST TRAVEL BEFORE SUMMER SKIES

SUMMER

BLINDING WHITE SANDS BURN
OUR EYES AND OUR THROATS
THE SUNSET IS MANY HOURS WALK AWAY
THERE IS NO RELIEF FROM THE HEAT
AND NO PLACE TO SHELTER
THE BLINDING SANDS ROAR ABOUT US
THE WINDS SCREAM IN OUR EARS
WE HUDDLE TOGETHER
DRAWING OUR ROBES ABOUT US
WE SHARE THE LAST OF
OUR FOOD,OUR FRESH DEAD HORSE
THE TRAVELLING HAS BEEN LONG
AND SINCE OUR BEAST DIED
WE HAVE EACH HAD
MUCH TO CARRY , TIME
HAS TRAVELLED SLOWLY

TO THE NORTH THE
SAND GIVES WAY TO LOW HILLS
THAT CLIMB TO THE BASE OF
SHEER ROCK CLIFFS
THERE IS A PASS THROUGH THIS
DESERT MOUNTAIN TOWARD THE EASTERN SIDE,
HALF A DAYS WALK FROM THERE IS A WELL
IT HAS NEVER BEEN DRY
AND OVER THE YEARS
HAS SAVED MY LIFE
MANY TIMES
SOON WE SHALL REST

THE SUN SETS BLOOD RED AND SLOW AND WE
STOP TO MAKE OUR CAMP
THE FULL MOON RISES ACROSS AN OCEAN OF SAND
THE WINDS HAVE DIED AND ALL AROUND
ARE SOUNDS OF CREATURES BORN TO THE NIGHT
THERE IS NO WOOD FOR A FIRE
WE EAT THE LAST OF OUR MEAT RAW
AND SHARE THE PRECIOUSE FEW DROPS
OF WATER
I STARE OUT ACROSS THE WASTELAND
THE ETURNITY OF SKY, AS MANY BRIGHT POINTS
AS GRAINS OF SAND,AND I AM LOST
IN THE WONDERING
BETWEEN THE FOLDS OF LAND AND SKY
WE SLEEP,A COOL BREEZE FLOWING THROUGH
OUR DREAMS,THE SCENT OF SOME FAR AWAY
AUTUMN,TO CARRY US THROUGH
YET ANOTHER DAY
NATURE ALWAYS HAS HER WAY
AND WE ARE BRAVE