The seasons stage their sharp revolt.
Ire shakes the eiderdown.
Ceiling fans (as locust threads)
Slash the air with wan relief:
Terra Australis, the hottest place on earth.
The tar on the road boils alive.
The world is on fire
Blood red, the air moist with dripping scent:
The birds splay out with open mouths
Sensate on the littered floor.
Expiration looms
Across the mighty rivers:
In mass exodus
The fish are retched on high
Dumb on the algal bloom.
Darkness blots the midday sun.
All is dust
All is lice:
Livestock sink into the mud
Hallowed by the flies.
Swarming, the scent of death fills the air.
Heat crackles the parchéd crust.
The vengeance of hail soon follows:
Flashing balls of whipping ice
Dent the metal roofs.
The times behowl
In vivid fear
The end of human kind
Engorged upon their wretched realms:
Cotton in the driest continent.
All is madness, all denial
Yet, in the clutter of destruction
The trees still whisper softly
The scent of clear survival:
“all is not lost”.
The mystery of living
Is cupped in each hand
Sands passing from time to time:
Fragile, ground in abeyance
Unfettered desires retreat.
To value all
To share in kind:
“Die liebe Erde allüberall”
Is nourished in revival
Pulse and bloom in cyclic care.
No Jehovah bed to lie in:
Custodians beget
The husbandry of fertile wish
That keeps the songlines clear
And integrates our longings:
And river run
And fish do swim
And insects feed the birds
As apex crumbles into dust
With humans as a herd.
Gar Jones - February 2019
Ire shakes the eiderdown.
Ceiling fans (as locust threads)
Slash the air with wan relief:
Terra Australis, the hottest place on earth.
The tar on the road boils alive.
The world is on fire
Blood red, the air moist with dripping scent:
The birds splay out with open mouths
Sensate on the littered floor.
Expiration looms
Across the mighty rivers:
In mass exodus
The fish are retched on high
Dumb on the algal bloom.
Darkness blots the midday sun.
All is dust
All is lice:
Livestock sink into the mud
Hallowed by the flies.
Swarming, the scent of death fills the air.
Heat crackles the parchéd crust.
The vengeance of hail soon follows:
Flashing balls of whipping ice
Dent the metal roofs.
The times behowl
In vivid fear
The end of human kind
Engorged upon their wretched realms:
Cotton in the driest continent.
All is madness, all denial
Yet, in the clutter of destruction
The trees still whisper softly
The scent of clear survival:
“all is not lost”.
The mystery of living
Is cupped in each hand
Sands passing from time to time:
Fragile, ground in abeyance
Unfettered desires retreat.
To value all
To share in kind:
“Die liebe Erde allüberall”
Is nourished in revival
Pulse and bloom in cyclic care.
No Jehovah bed to lie in:
Custodians beget
The husbandry of fertile wish
That keeps the songlines clear
And integrates our longings:
And river run
And fish do swim
And insects feed the birds
As apex crumbles into dust
With humans as a herd.
Gar Jones - February 2019
