Like Socrates,tread I barefoot on the ground Drink deeply, elixir of the soil Strengthened by every grain imbibedConnections rooted deeply from the coreThe elemental smell of rain- freed earthy spores that cleanse and heal;A living substrate made for growthIn simplicity, softly drawn withinWhere we, with nature, seemingly at one Are held,Protected by the earth andContinue reading “Abandonment to Garden”
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The Moon in May
The moon in May By flower moon is knownSilently rises aboveQueen Anne’s LaceEphemeral and statuesqueThis golden coin Effortlessly glides and chases Oblivion.
Distilled
Distilled an essence Elutriated and ready to perfect A world extruded when the line is drawnThe sky itself will bear no limitsBe still my soulMay peace endure.
The End of Rain
Latent sun a bequeathed breathEnough to sate the soulTo linger under the baleful cloudTo feel the stillness Calm beheldAs droplets fall,the weight of Trees Like dew-drop pearlsFrom branch and leaves.
Past Midnight
Steel spray of moonlight Sharpened edges Frame the cloudIgniting the sky in marbled effusion Tracing the lines,masking the Disc of whiteA gilded spectreManifests then shrinks Back into stormy darkness.
In or Out? – Window of Opportunity
Window of opportunity- staked and ready is the landSave for harshness and ferocious stormsBurgeoning growth and every space inside Is filled;Potential screams from frame and sillFor that window of opportunity to present;And so the question phrased isIn or out? We try a voice of reason:Month of May,When riotous colour floods the bankAnd nature itself cannotContinue reading “In or Out? – Window of Opportunity”
Childhood in the Suburbs
I lived my childhood As an adventurer and in imagination – always outside- always on the edge; Cowboys and Indians Bows and arrows shot between the red leaves of the old plum treeInto the street;Legends of Tarzan played out in daring crossings over fallen trees and the tiny stream in the park With its lonelyContinue reading “Childhood in the Suburbs”
Hare 3
Strident in centre field,Startled a long run it makes Limbs long and leanAcross the evening field it sprints, A back-lit golden dart;Partially shielded above the The boundary ditchTo watch and listen,Then in another direction, Over splash of greenApollo’s arrow spears the sun.
To Look Up
Under the mighty thundercloud warm air is drawn Yet the wind whips simultaneously From the rising wall of slate Steep and anviled, ominous is the beast And precise as the shutter closed,A grinding rumble from the depths of the grey was soundedLike a giant awakening;And so drawn am I toBeauty seen in the striking skies;ShieldingContinue reading “To Look Up”
Drawn to a Black and White World
Only a thin blue lineA hint of haze As fog puckers its surface; Smokescreen of view,Visceral changes manifest asBlurred shapes deep within a Cloud- born haze form Lines without ends, Fields, their boundaries lost inVanishing spectral light-Of A chain of promises broken; Drawn in are we or out Into a black and white world?
Ruth Partridge 