Botanical Colloquium

They are everywhere, at home and abroad

they span the world, transfixed at the sight of

a rare bloom, ecstatic at the thought of the next

season, confident in nature and bolstered by

the comforting thought that engaging their

environment is vital to their very existence

transforming the landscape in step with the

mistress of us all, part of a sorority, a vast

fraternity of like-minded individuals viewing

themselves as gardeners, storing in memory

plants that flower and those whose foliage

alone sends them into rhapsodic praise of all

vegetation that emerges from the same source

as us all. From the mundane to the exotic, the

pedestrian to the sublime their textures, form

fragrance and colour entrance and beguile. Once

seen always remembered the slow fire of lust

focusing on those temptations that must be

acquired to grace one's own garden, a universal

trait by which one host of a garden recognizes

another for instant rapport in familiarity. From

my priceless patch of earth to yours, welcome!

Come, let's consult, my friend, teach me...

The Offence of Charm

Rest assured your credulity has been

tested and found wanting wounding trust.

On the other hand be aware that genuine

charm is irresistible as a human quality that

communicates from the owner to the

admirer of such a human trait not all of

us is endowed with, for it cannot otherwise

be acquired. It is the easy self-assurance

that patrician grace, the manner born to

all the more so when one is born within

a manor, a situation of rare privilege

entitling the privileged to consider

themselves exotic creatures of a shade of

nobility whose presence becomes a gift

to all others. Life lessons that imbue you

and me with the cautionary principle that

the piper will be paid for indiscreet and

immoral acts when judgement lapses

somehow never penetrate the conscious

awareness of celebrity figures known and

admired for their lofty presence in the

firmament of mundane human existence.

To them go the plaudits exciting emotions

rendering the ordinary among us their

ardent followers. And even when they

have deliberately side-stepped the obvious

boundaries of the socially permissible into

immoral and illegal territory their sheepish

mea culpas disarm the accusations brought

to bear for the reasoning is they meant well.

Sounding Out The Forest

 

On high the giants of the forest move their

regal rain-drenched masts to the rhythmic

energy of wind, shaking loose bright pearls of

rainwater from an early morning rainfall.

There is an orchestral quality to the wind

soughing through the forest canopy, a slow

regularity of sound now a murmur, then a

distant train oncoming as gusts alternate and

reverberate through the forest, elaborated

and embroidered by the soprano intervention

of a song sparrow its sweet, clear melody

exciting the air as bees fumble back and forth

among the drenched wildflowers. Damselflies

loop their arabesque over the rain-swollen

stream below the forested hillsides. Swift

and nimble squirrels impetuously give chase

red after black oblivious to the grave presence

within the forest confines of coyotes' patient

opportunism. The mud-churning stream roils

and billows through narrow rapids, on its banks

jewelweed orchids glimmer in burnished

orange tones where hoverflies dance and

pollinate in nature's endless cycles. Tranquility

finally reigns in the pulsating woods until the

sky grumbles a deep, prolonged message

that on this hot and humid day a darkly

brooding sky plays host to rolling thunder.

Firing the Spark

 

 

Do you sometimes muse over the far

distant past when your subconscious suddenly

jogs a memory of someone's attention to

the curiosity of a small child attentive in

a distracted but warm appeal to the queries

of an inquisitive mind imparting knowledge

and experience on the impulse to answer an

imperative to endow the generations with an

ongoing narrative of existence? For the child

who never looks with longing at the stars above

thinks about the vast expression of the oceans

below, the mountains reaching to the sky

and forests beguiling with their endless

variety in the endless seasons of life will

be forever mired in a deadlock of disinterest

the years of their precocious wonder passing

lacking the recognition deserving of an

agile mind in the result of passive disinterest

in forging brief mind-to-mind relations whose

impressions will far outlast communion between

child and adult. The memory piquant and timely

the result resonating in a nimble and reflective

mind for it does take a village to raise a child.

Inheriting Genetic Memory

It is an unspeakably vile thing to destroy

a soul with the vile contempt of viewing

human beings as commodities, dispensable

whose value lies in their usefulness to others

living devices lacking full humanity whose

lives and labour have the capacity to bring

leisure and riches to those who own them.

Little wonder that descendants of those who

were taken from Africa writhe in pain at the

inherited memory of suffering in the depraved

and obscene misuse of human lives tormented

enslaved, raped and deprived of their freedom.

There are those who deliberately fail to recognize

the magnitude of this venomous barbarism which

the enslaved of all ages were forced to endure

or perish.Yet there are others of ancient lineage

who well know and recognize this assault on

human dignity for what it is for they too have

suffered endlessly from antiquity to the present.

African slaves were traded for profit by other

African tribes, the intermediaries Arab slave

traders.Yet confoundingly these historical facts

of duplicity and cupidity are brushed aside in

favour of placing responsibility for historical

and current misery the inheritors of those bleak

memories prefer to believe were caused by that

other people whom history and human failure

have chosen to represent with the very traits

most held in contempt deserving of blame and

the violence of slander and misrepresentation.

Awakening The Forest

A day of oppressive heat

billowing white clouds

obscuring the sun

leaning through the cloud cover

penetrating and burning

the atmosphere

to a fiery furnace

no escape but into the

churning water

of the forest creek

washing the banks in

the fury of a maelstrom

unleashed by the

thunderous storm

of the night before heaving

low branches heavy with

rain, scant comfort to

the birds huddled within

the drenched confines

of conifers dropping

their cones on this late summer

morning, the air redolent

of marsh gases

the forest beyond claiming

the dusk of deep shade

under the forest canopy

drenched wildlife

denned and silent

until a woodpecker suddenly

punctuates the atmosphere

in a bold staccato and a

song sparrow responds with

the courage of an aria

awakening the forest.

Programming Instinct

When is an animal out in the forest not
in its natural element? When it has been
selected for domestication away from the
habitat it was born to, in service to another
species that broke from the landscape where
nature nurtured it to rely on its own initiatives
exploiting nature beyond what might ever
have been imagined possible. Breeding
instills in animals impulses and attitudes that
cannot be denied much less over-ridden
through instruction and exposure, threat or 
punishment for what becomes written into
the indelible code of existence supporting
survival burns with an intensity not readily
dislodged by any means of coercion. So it is
when accompanying a domesticated animal
whose inbred compulsion to pursue the fleeting
form of another beast that it cannot be recalled
until the ritual hunt-and-kill formula has seen
response and is satisfied. Two noble beasts,
one designed by nature to run free in the
forest, denning up and preying on smaller
denizens, and the other bred to hunt on the
instruction of humankind, domesticated yet
nurturing the wild impulse within, an urban-
wild drama of fox and Malamute, a sorrow.

Rules of the Game

In a world searching for positive verities 
we find a passive social system which
teaches us that it is not what you know
but who you know that engages with
the future you will inherit, a message
not lost on those compelled to 'get ahead'
full steam, knowing they needn't bother
with tried-and-lose methods such as
meritorious performance and pride in
workmanship, using one's intelligence
in lock-step with honest effort for that
is the direction taken by the myriad of
ineffectual losers mired in the tedious 
belief that in a fair competition the most 
qualified gains the prize. We are not born 
cynics but becoming one is the result of 
viewing the game of one-upsmanship and 
cronyism from the prism of a dedicated 
belief in effort, time, patience and proud
professionalism, all qualities satisfying 
the soul but empty of promise, lacking 
the pre-requisite of forging coeval social 
links in a cabal of like-backgrounded elite 
in full-dress possession of the ladder of 
success from which height they deign 
never to look back on the human dross 
struggling to achieve their elusive goal.

Have You Noticed?

Public contrition has become a quite

indispensable tool in the workbox of

politicians when they are caught flat-footed

and outright engaged in actions recognized

as part and parcel of the irresistible

opportunities available to those invested

in governing ostensibly to wield judgement

in the public interest. In autocratic states

there is no need to backtrack and explain

how immoral actions were accidentally

embarked upon, errors of judgement that

will not, no not ever, be engaged upon again

by yours truly. Saying they're truly sorry

hits all the right notes though of course

it is questionable whether their regret relates

to the corrupt act itself or the misfortune of

being caught at it. Examining the situation

so typical of the entitled feeling nothing they

do should be questioned but if they are

the 'all-is-forgiven' ritual is demanded one

realizes that it is the 'woke' progressives among

them that apologize and graciously accept

the forgiveness of the electorate, while the

conservatives among them expect no quarter

from the public for they are never forgiven

and for their sins must vacate the premises.

 

Unfortunate Plight

You know what? We're living through
rough times. Who might ever have
thought in the wildest of their nightmares
that one such as this would descend
not only on us personally but the entire
world? If you're doing all right coping
and managing your affairs taking into
account the new realities and the limits
imposed on daily life, a thought or two
should be spared for those struggling to
get along, and much more than a slight
thought to all those whose future has been
forfeit by the evil stalking humankind in
the guise of a deadly virus. But guess what?
There are limits to anyone's store of 
empathy, and mine was reached when
reading about some elderly dame who
is younger than me bemoaning that for
the first time in 40 years her elderly-gen
house cleaner has been unavailable so
she herself was forced to learn how to
clean her home. How difficult it has been
without regular visits to her hairdresser
and to have her nails regularly looked 
after, and the misery she felt walking
about without her regular pedicure. Good
grief! To think that such people harbour
such deep dependency on others that they
are just now discovering how to cook for
themselves, fails to trigger my automatic
sympathy for the plight of the unfortunate.

Cul de Sac

My memory probes have revealed
nothing. Does my subconscious know
something that I do not? That vaguer
than vague twinge haunting my thoughts
must have some meaning. Is it something
I cannot recall? That I have no lingering
memory of, perhaps? A recall of some
time, a place where I have been before.
That stroll through the forest on a narrow
trail overhung with a dense canopy of
green admitting no sun, deep in the dusk
of daylight shade, is that a metaphor for
something that should have great meaning
to me? A green so deep it has swallowed
ambient light, threatens to swallow my
presence. Yet the landscape exudes a deep
feeling of familiarity, a comfortable ease
that makes little sense against the itch of
knowing when I know nothing at all.

Microcosm

A giant stands sentry, as old and as
regal as nature itself, its stolid presence
guarding a cornucopia of treasures
vibrant and colourful their appearance
assurance that time and life intersect
endlessly as companions of existence.
Under the vaulted blue lid of the sky
the earth below is saturated with the
light and warmth of that life-endowing
furnace of molten gold. Its issue lies
below where the forest treasury boasts
an exquisite array of flowers designed
to pleasure the landscape alongside
vegetation of glowing verdant grace
dangling their gifts of grapes and berries
nuts and apples to entice the attention
of birds, butterflies and mammals to
a feast of generous proportions, the
atmosphere enlivened by the gratitude
of birds praising nature's elements.

Have You Heard?

Have you heard about the massive hoax

that's been perpetrated against the global

community, by any chance? Aha! I can see

the incredulity in your eyes though your

facial expressed is masked, that there is a 

certain disbelief hobbling your mind

closed to the possibility that you have been

complicit in turning the world's social order

and economy inside out, twisting the present

and fogging the future. In one improbably

fell swoop all that is familiar to advanced

humanity has receded, closing borders

inhibiting trade, leaving people unemployed

and in dire straits, hospitals convinced they

must focus only on the supposition the public

will suddenly collapse in a mass paroxysm

of apprehended respiration. Strange symptoms

and stranger outcomes puzzle the medical

community struggling to cope with this

mysterious illness. The globe pulsates with

panicked trepidation as people pray to be

spared in a mass psychosis of surrender to

this message of a deadly zoonotic laying whole

societies low. A risible hoax, my friend, you

who maintain such a careful distance from me

unwilling to believe the simple truth that an

unnamed malignant force has mesmerized you

and the world into believing that benevolent

nature has turned her back on her creatures.

Mass hypnosis, my friend, hyper-hypnosis! 

The sick, the dying, the deaths? Mere illusions.

This, on the world's most powerful authority.

Divine Destiny

From a common origin in time's
misted past they prized a sacred bond
a covenant of belief and struggled to
be faithful to that belief in their never
ending pursuit of life, liberty and that
goal of all humankind, happiness. That
place they called their own challenged
by others whose own pursuit of conquest
of territory set tribe against tribe and
clan upon clan with superior forces of
warfare and entitlements displacing the
vulnerable to exile, globally dispersing
a people all held in suspicion for their
very deviance from others' norms. As the
ages passed and each diaspora group
scattered far and wide held to be intruders
unwanted and violated the aspirational
dream of return became more manifest
and desperate as pogroms lead to more
of the same culminating in a genocidal
solution so successful what remained
set forward a blueprint of return -- for
Zion awaited. The return to Judean
heritage bespoke hope and a future
secured by defiance and defence against
an everlastingly hostile world. A defence
so enduringly called upon stirring deep
in the nation's subconscious -- nevermore
would its people be deprived of life
liberty and the pursuit of happiness 
even at the perpetual cost of relentless
defence threatening existential upheaval
a condition so dire yet so familiar the
nation's vigilance can never waver for
next-year-in-Jerusalem finally arrived.

Life Calls

With metronomic regularity
time ticks on offering one day
following another
challenging the aware to
charge into a new opportunity
to become so immersed
in forming the hours into an
experience novel and infused
with a pulsating excitement
dredged up by a subconscious
that must surely have tucked
away the memory of
generations before in a timeless
transfer of adventure mired in
both folly and conquest
that it charges and recharges
the imagination in recognition
of the possible acceding to
the relentless impulse to garner
resources, gather courage
gain confidence and emerge
resolved to pack the day with
every unique and random search
to answer every question that ever
rose from an unknown source
in the endless, restless voyage to
the future, day by following day 
approachable and defiant of
the mind's doubts. A provocation.

Then and Now

There is this about the human condition
not much changes. At one time he would be 
called a jovial man but the description brings
forward the vision of a colossal painting by
Jacob Jordaens of a Renaissance-period
wine-swilling obese paterfamilias, so in this 
era he would be labelled an extrovert and 
in point of fact no one could mistake his 
trim athletic form and smiling face for anything 
but the visage of a perfectly nice man with a 
well balanced attitude of moderation in all things.
The Golden Rule handed down through the ages
and heeded by few. To Jordaens' man the 
passage of time conveyed the adage of eat
drink and be merry for none know what the 
morrow brings, viewing his ample flesh with 
satisfaction as a proud symbol of prosperity. 
Our friend is circumspect, enjoying life and 
planning to do so while his longevity permits 
taking pleasure in leisure pursuits, restraining 
appetite for all excesses from food and drink 
to risky behaviour, taking pride in managing 
his severe and chronic health conditions. 

Incarnate Charlatan

As a showman P.T.Barnum was peerless
as a judge of human nature beyond
perspicacious for he had opportunity
aplenty to view, assess and conclude
leaving for posterity his sage observation
that you cannot fool all of the people
all of the time likely quoting a politician
whose Lincolnish judgement was likely
without peer. Bringing the past observation
to the present situation where a single
individual incorporating the persona of
both showman and politician is doing
his best to prove them both wrong. In
point of fact, viewing his smug supercilious
face it becomes clear his vibrant self-regard
is quite satisfied that despite flouting
ethics while flaunting his ego the public
still fawns and favours the facade he
presents as a trustworthy guide of the
public weal in a parliamentary democracy
he has chosen to suspend wielding the
power he feels entitled to while flagrantly
committing one breach of trust following
another and all is forgiven when he
attests his intentions were pure and the
outcomes merely misunderstood for
after all, this virtuous man deeply cares
and we know this because he claims it.

Their Human Pets

It is human nature
to believe that above all other
animals we are the most
cerebrally gifted for after all
are we not 'man-the-wise'?
Into our homes we invite
members of other animal species
to share our lives
prepared at times to stoop
to their level of understanding
failing in the process to 
ourselves realize that it is they
who master us in cleverly
manipulating the view of
dependency and helplessness
all the while manoeuvring their
humans to do their bidding
for after all we are the
provisioners and they the needy
supplicants pleasing us when
they express their acceptance
of our efforts at hygiene 
management otherwise known
as discretionary excrement
bathing and exercising them
feeding and fussing
grooming and entertaining
our clever undeservingly
exploitation-underrated pets. 

The Black Admiral

Like the merest wisp of a dream
it lifts itself effortlessly on
the barest of breezes
itself as light as a thought
swooping and swerving
performing arabesques
in an balletic performance
of sheer joyful beauty
as though it is aware that
the world of nature is
there for its dancing presence
a black-and-white butterfly
exquisitely speaking nature's
language of languid comfort
in the niche that evolution
has given it, a poem in flight
pirouetting through the forest.

When We're Harmed

Yes, we understand your umbrage when

being likened not to a prelate a primate

of the church but one of the animal kingdom

and we feel your anguish and always have

for our experience has been similar other

than a primate for we have been labelled

the lowest of the canine curs by those who

despise the legend that claims to identify

our qualities as such disowned by the

righteous rigorously creating divisions

within the race of humankind. Your rage

is ours too, your humiliation as well. And

your demands reflect our own magnified

exponentially for there are infinitely more

of you than there is of us. Slavery was your

condition abetted by your own seeking

profit and caring little for your welfare, a

tribal distance of inbred hostility. Ours a

different fate, diminished through organized

lethality to destroy our presence. The world

once hung its head in shame, contrite. Now

your turn has come and you rise triumphant

in your accusations of inhumanity against

your oppressors. Surprise! You've taken

dead aim at those whose suffering eclipsed

your own over the ages to the present

targeting the venom of blame at the very

group supporting your thrust for overdue

civil rights. In so doing you have armed

yourself with the very slings and arrows

you have long endured, turning against an

ally, proving yourself no better and perhaps

worse than your erstwhile tormentors, for

when you set aside conscience and snarl

and do us harm your campaign for dignity

recognition of equality loses its fulcrum.

Bewitched

In an earlier era of human development

when people lived closer to nature

forests were both useful and places of

great mystery which seemed to offer an

aura of threat to nearby residents whose

children were taught the folklore of the

forest as an object lesson in fear in their

introduction to Hansel and Gretel and the

witch that inhabited every deep, dark

forest interior as well as Little Red Riding

Hood whose grandmother a wicked wolf 

impersonated. One never knows for there

was also Good King Wenceslas who espied

a needy peasant on Christmas Eve. In this

modern era when the bulk of any population

is far removed from natural surroundings

few such fascinating fears are instilled in

children where forests are less threatening

and perhaps feature as places of adventure.

Where stalwart souls seek out the ambiance

of a forgotten world their ancestors knew

and now cheekily find comfort amidst the

trees and the wildlife awaiting discovery.

In mine alone a spirit of mischief prevails

for some arcane soul wanders the trails when

none others are about leaving behind items

placed in inconspicuous places ripe for

surprise and discovery. In winter minuscule

snowmen well detailed sit atop tree stumps

and in spring painted rocks spell out cheery

messages. The latest confounding message

espied looped on the inner branches of a

venerable wild apple tree that of a miniature

doghouse, complete with resident awaiting

a chance discovery left by the forest's spirit.

In Season's Praise

In this place the supernatural emerges
in the deep dark hours of night. But
this is morning and a preternatural
aura still persists, dusk yet hovering
unwilling to welcome dawn with
proper respect. For this is not a day
when the vast dome of the sky appears
blue as the ocean free of waves of
vapour. The forest steams in a summer
of heat and humidity, fat drops of rain
slipping from forest canopy to forest
floor, steeped deep in the excess that
last night's torrents hurled by the wind
drowned the forest in yet failed to lift the
pressure of the firebox it has become
this season. Still, a robin trills then
strings a worm from the vibrating soil
while tiny yellow feathered ovals swoop
among hemlocks and oaks as goldfinches
burst into song in praise of the season.

Moi?

Oh, simple enough if you possess that
requisite flair for the stage -- all the more
so if your stage is politics where drama
of one kind or another is always expected
and expected to be dealt with. Flair and
finesse help. And if you're caught in one
of those bold-faced lies, express a contrite
mea culpa, adding you had the best of
intentions. Be brazen, and smile for the
following stage is that celebrity-popularity
role you were born to. Not your fault you
were born to charm and if that quality is
an aid to deception, so be it. Politics, after
all. The world's your oyster and you're its
pearl, didn't your mama tell you so? Your
papa was the Northern Magus, both such
talented thespians gifting you with that
magic essence called charisma, capable of
enchanting the naive and easily led who 
will not credit charges of corruption nor
dereliction of duty, nor malevolence to one
so given to generously giving of himself
to the applause of that adoring audience
championing your casual distribution of
the nation's wealth in a bold and direct bid
to garner votes ... and good man ... it works!