Primeval Orchestration

 

Oh yes, that primal choreography of light 

and sound never fails to awake in us our own 

visceral beat of that sublime internal organ 

aligned with the primeval forces of nature's 

brilliant design. The slow far-off drum-beat of 

the inevitable approach encroaching on the 

atmosphere heralded by the assembling dark 

clouds of a storm but not just any storm. This 

one is a veritable train of successive storms 

all in their turn replete with the bass orchestral

values of tympani, tuba, bassoon, all in chorus 

clashing and smashing the dripping dark 

atmosphere, relieving Earth of its stark thirst 

for moisture in the grand style that only the 

sublime conductor Maestro nature confers.

 

The Silent Fog

 

An opaque white mist
veiled the morning.
Stillness whispered
its ephemeral presence.

Foreground clasped in the
tender fingers of fog.
Distance shyly absent
in a great hollow of vacancy,
white and impenetrable.

Like a condensed
compactly-mysterious
Earth-bound Milky Way. 

 

 

On This Presummer Day

 

In the forest as we follow our two little dogs 

along cool woodland trails in the heat of a

pre-summer day there is the near sound of a

pileated woodpecker drumming rhythmically

and a chorus of crows we speculate may be

harassing a great barred owl. Dragonflies are

beginning to appear along with damselflies

bees and butterflies flitting in and around the 

forest understory. Robins here and there skittering 

comically about on the trails and the underbrush

before us, taking flight when our dogs approach too 

curiously close. We pass wild columbine, cinquefoil 

and bright daisies in bloom along the banks of the 

creek coursing through the ravine on this perfectly 

lovely day. On our return home our garden beckons 

to be admired and we  happily oblige, taken by the 

glorious sight of tamed nature orderly in a conceit of 

roses, irises, peonies and hostas flaunting their shapes 

and beguiling shades. Just as well we readily access 

both landscapes generous to a fault in offering us 

magnanimous pleasure in these treasured leisure 

years of our long lives together, you and I, my love.

 

 

Exploiting Tragedy

There, that didn't take long now, did it?

The visceral venom of anti-Semitism has

groped its way to the surface beyond the

deep, dark, dank cesspool where it was ever

so temporarily set aside. To be dredged up

when the occasion demands and with

predictable regularity it appears on demand

to satisfy the rage of Jew-haters prepared at

any opportunity to ascribe whatever occurs

that can be described as a tragedy to the agency

of Jewish conspiracies spreading the virus of

division and greed over the globe. There are

some charges that though redolent of hollow

injustice are rarely challenged. Forgotten is 

the gifts that Judaic philosophy and generosity

of spirit has imbued the larger community

with, the genius of its inheritors set aside for

the greater pursuit of stalking and charging

its collective with all worldly evils. Evoking

the sinister agenda of Israel and Jews the

world over to dominate the world order 

charged with mysterious involvement of the

death of a Muslim family in a deadly assault

by a devout Christian held to be introverted

and severely anti-social, leading the imam 

of the mosque they attended to thunder blame

upon Jews and Israel defending themselves

from the vicious atrocities devised by Muslims

incited to hate by Islamist fanatics whose

ideal state of universal justice is 'Death to Jews!'

Illusions of Grandeur

Some dreams do come true even if in

their creation they become nightmares for

others. Bewitch a psychically vulnerable

scion of a royal family to become a besotted

accomplice in overturning tradition while

roiling a family compact and suddenly that

clever architect of progressive coloured

entitlement sees payback for historical

humiliation and she the recipient of wide

celebrity and public acclaim in the social aura

of the underdog becoming top dog scorning

empire and colonialism. Scheming and 

carefully burnishing the credentials of sad

victimhood at the careless and oblivious 

treatment of nobility toward commoners she

finds a ready ally in the arrested-juvenile mind

of her confused consort using him as a wrecking

ball in gay abandon, leaving the alarmed

bruised and bashed targets reeling in dismay.

Glorying in a royal title now hers, awash in

social media celebrity payouts she lives the

life she dreamed off, mother to a princeling

with distant but proud rights of inheritance.

Jerusalem Ablaze

No, these are not pyromaniacs, sociopaths

fascinated with fire, compelled to surrender

to their urges for excitement in incendiary flashes

so that while their pathology leading to fiery

destruction oblivious in their sick minds of

what they commit to, these are an altogether

different breed that view themselves as victims

and as such entitled to surreptitiously set blazes

endangering all that lie in the path of fires so

fierce inhabitants must flee as do the animals in

the fires' path, destroying trees, crops, livelihoods

and lives. These are true psychopaths hoping to

destroy the lives they endanger, entitled to do so

because of their self-declared victimhood in the

belief theirs is a cause the world supports with

little regard for the true victims who suffer the

double pain of loss, terror and threats culminating

in violence and blame. The incendiaries proclaim

their undying love of the land that its owners have

painstakingly converted from desert to fecund fields

of arable land producing food for the inhabitants

of a nation occupying their heritage geography yet

contested by migrants from other nations demanding

the indigenous people leave or die, so the settlers

who purloined identification and iconography

of sacred belief as their own can claim the land.

 

 

The Heat-Exhausted Forest

 

It was one of those dog days of summer

but for the fact that this was only a day

in late spring leaping ahead of itself

in a stultifying, smothering overheated

oppression that baked the forest floor 

a barely discernible breeze moving

foliage in a sultry dance of heat-drenched

movement where even the vibrant green

of the forest screen seemed muted by a

lassitude of sombre reflection. There was

no reflection in the forest stream as

striated clouds gathered obscuring the sun

gaining little benefit in reducing the heat

smelting effect of the day. A sudden burst

of energy as the giant wings of an unseen

great blue heron spread wide, lifting the bird

from the water into an atmospheric aura as fully

liquid as the stream to soar over the forest

canopy in search of respite, to escape the

torpor enveloping the exhausted forest.