NAVIGATING INACTION
Following his instinct,
encouraged by the sun
with a flaming farewell,
the butterfly travels
playgrounds of water islands
on the patio table.
Keen to keep this last warmth,
he chases his reflection
in liquid mirrors
and drinks his needs
to sustain until morning.
The last starling
measuring fading light,
swoops a last chance,
the butterfly flaps uselessly
while he’s carried away.
The S.O.S. of those wings
later beat a tattoo
on the taut skin
of a night disturbed
as I rerun the incident
over in my head,
questions chasing answers
and dreams of prevention.
,
I’ll wager I’m not alone
in making a religion
out of helplessness.
SENTINEL OF THE DEPARTED
The grave is sheltered
by a music tree,
silent symphony of green
composed on the branches,
a concert of sadness
respecting an audience
applauding in silence.
Its efforts are dancing
across the background of sky,
wanting to arrange the wind
into nature’s composition,
explaining what it means
to be sentinel of the departed.
Blossoms of tree melody
snow down to freedom
and feel themselves a chorus
to the perfect wild expression
of the present boasting
the future in hidden cells.
A sudden gift
and I take my leave
knowing now
how to be me.
FOR SALE
Well-made world for sale,
one careful owner
wishing now to retire
from self-inflicted isolation
and complaints of mis-management.
Slightly worn in places
by inhabitant’s excesses
and lack of care,
but shines up well
at sunrise and sunset.
Has hot and cold seasons
on suite as standard
that need care and attention,
has sufficient gravity
to prevent losing contents.
Would suit a deity
looking for the experience
of taking steps towards
accepting the blame
for future disasters.
The price is the sacrifice
to be all things to all people
without time off
on a planet that’s grown
as combustible as firewood.
His book ‘History Doesn’t Die’ was published in 2023.
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