Poetry | Stories | Photography
An urbanised prodigy.
While playing the violin, his teacher said, “You need to understand nature for this piece”.
Baffled, he said, “I don’t understand”.
The teacher said, “You hold wood and shellac; you touch horse hair and resin. Is this not part of nature?
“I guess”.
we walk in the mist,
we walk in the cold
you talk about nothing,
I talk about everything
we arrive at a warm fire
we arrive at a hot stew
you set the table,
I pour the champagne
and
then
the ice wine
The fog gathers, caressing the trees;
The trees see their reflection on the surface;
The lake’s surface is their mirror.
The mirror reveals what the trees want to see;
The fog clouds their judgement;
The lake plays games with the wise old trees.
Almost part of the sky,
as the embrace of solace eases the sadness.
You will be sitting at home reading or playing a game,
yet you’re not now.
Now you’re just ash,
and I am now alone.
Beyond the mist,
another world.
Here and now,
still in this place.
Viewing the scene,
distorted reflections.
Trees on the surface,
watery reflections.
Deceptively calm,
hidden from sight.
Another world waits;
the mirror ripples.
A mysterious fog
hangs about
the fabled woods.
Sitting still on
the surface
watching the water.
Listening to the
calm sounds
of the lake song.
A tree song
sung in the key of winter,
yet there is a melody here.
Her river art
is painted with romanticism,
yet her art is unclassified.
I stand still,
full of longing and sorrow,
yet she cheers me along.
I have been sitting at my computer, floating away in the afternoon sun, looking at the unmowed lawn in the backyard.
It’s nice to take some time to watch without having a deadline, although the backyard looks alive and full of nippy insects.
Saturday is going too fast.
Different colours bleed
chaos across the Earth
Mother nature decided
to take it all back
In the pandemonium
we didn’t listen
Now she will make us listen
Now we will have to hear her
Now our world will change
So that in the future
we will all have her
Dressed in simple cotton robes, six gathered around the point of examination.
They hesitated. All were too afraid to touch such a foreign-looking living thing.
Braver than the others, one touched a branch a thumb. All followed, touching the last two trees.
C & K 