Lost To Us

 

He is everywhere, his

tiny self dogging us,

haunting every room of

the home that was his 

              and ours

but we grieve that

he is nowhere to 

be seen, simply no longer

with us, and we can no

longer swoop the

      little fellow

our dearest companion

into our arms again.

The memory of him

lives within our very core

warm and alive, but

it is now an essence. That

lovable and loving creature

to whom we gave our hearts

has taken a piece of those hearts

with him, leaving what was

left within us broken,

bereft, sorrowing. Nothing

can be done, he is gone

his life lost to us.

 

 

Absolute Power

The formula for absolute power is a simple one

deployed by a siege of the population's mind in

a psychosis of terror. The successful tyrant cannot be

viewed as a benevolent dictator for his mission to

achieve the structure of domination he has elevated

himself to cannot be viewed as accommodating to

the peoples' wishes,  unless their wish revolves around

the glory of the nation hawkishly viewing its neighbours

for signs of independence from the octopus pull of the

region's hegemonic power. Any dilution of the steel

armour of relentless predatory initiatives to muster

a benighted nation to conflict cannot be tolerated and

nor challengers critical of atrocities insufficiently brutal.

Those few with the effrontery of mind to damn the

tyrant as lacking the demonic drive to destroy, pillage

and slaughter in the broad-based rampages preying

on the innocent affront the tyrant well known never to

suffer the indignity of defiance to his totalitarian rule

the consequences of which have been swift and deadly.

One by one they fall, those who confront, who question

and oppose, destroyed by their own incaution whose

passion carries them to the pleased bosom of the

rapacious archangel of Death with whom the tyrant has

signed a very special pact of resolute death-on-delivery.

The Migrants

Most aware living creatures do not foul their

nests. What makes a home so turgid with waste

its inhabitants can no longer find comfort there?

Should homelands be disposable and left in search

of a replacement? The human animal has been a

migratory species since time and existence began.

Humanity settles itself scooping together a target

group to become a family, a clan, a tribe, a nation.

And among them jostling for first place of command

and control, a never-ending struggle seldom with a

view of altruistic concern for the welfare of the all.

The congestion of greed and entitlement has no

space for the public weal. Reasonableness absent

order and security are lapsed dreams compelling

the weak and the vulnerable to flee into the unknown

sensing there where civilization dwells life awaits.

Desperation shuns the rumours of Death sharpening

its scythe in delirious expectation of another crop.

Instead consultation and payment of land and sea

passags ushers new threats and fears into the minds

of the migrants for there is no return to the escape

from hell, just another transitory and possibly final

hell awaiting their frenetic search for elusive haven.

 

Creation, Time and Space

Creation, Time and Space

An imposing cathedral of

unparalleled beauty sheathed in

crystalline grandeur lifts its

imperious grace to the ceiling

of the sky velvet with approaching

night, a halo of moon and the

boldness of stars impassively

observing a landscape unlike

their own of frozen gases and

ancient minerals. The one below

with its living atmosphere

responds to the distance of its

sponsor-sun in a frigid pause

of the clamour of growing

things unlike the inert nothingness

of cold and distant space. This

most familiar place of time and

seasons, liveliness and curiosity

a highly specialized experiment

by nature in randomized creative

adventure. And so, her creations

look up and peer beyond the

darkness of the unknown, certain

of discovery and revelation.

 

Molten Inferno

 

Raw power is its own authority, immune

and insensate it compels and overwhelms.

These elements of nature's elements intrude

where they may, spontaneous, unexpected and 

deadly to all in their path, grim outcomes for

the unfortunates caught in the ferocity of power

unrestrained by puny humanity. Wildfires that

suddenly erupt sparked by fire from above in

a dry atmosphere of abnormal summer heat

whipped by intransigent winds, the dread fires

rage and leap across the landscape, scorch 

the forest canopy, delve beneath the soil to burn

underground, held in abeyance only by the granite

slopes of nearby mountains yet airborne sparks

alight further afield creating new unstoppable

infernos that swiftly approach settlements and

humanity joins the beasts of the forest in their

frantic race against encroaching flames for the

fires are unappeasable, answerable to no force

but their own rapacious appetite for destruction.

Celebrating Life

The very thought or mention of wildflowers: ragweed

thistle, goldenrod, bindweed, burdock or dandelions

and the gardener hisses: weeds! But in nature's garden 

there blooms an untold wealth of flowers she cultivates 

with care and knowing discrimination. Seasonal jewels 

of field and forest alongside rivers and lakes and those

appearing on the vast granite ridges of mountainsides 

celebrating the seasons of growth and plenty. Shades 

of rainbow pastels and glowing petals of flaming hues

their flowerheads fashioned in shape and symmetry with

texture and tinctures of perfume irresistible to the

senses of sensuality. Birds, butterflies, dragonflies and 

bees hover and settle on the blossoms of choice lingering

and departing in a courteous dance of intimacy and

nurturance. In a pollinating meadow suffused with

floral choice creatures of the biosphere celebrate life.

 

 

Humanity's Salvation

No event can contend with the emergence of 

new life fresh with the dew of spring's

awakening to excite, awe and delight for there 

are scant few observers and participants alike 

who are not taken with the birth of a dimpled 

child much less new births of any creature 

presenting as an exquisite immature version of the

maturity that will eventually overtake them.

Without doubt it is monumentally fitting that 

the whole of creation appears to be fixated on 

the birth of a child as a momentous occasion 

in world history leading to the emergence of a 

worldwide religion. The elder version hailed 

as the Prince of Peace delivered his universal 

message in a transmission of earthly life as a 

gesture from the God of Abraham. And how 

peculiar it is that it had to be a Jewish child 

whose identity as the voice of God transfixed 

vast multitudes. How much more peculiar that 

those worshipping multitudes chose those of 

the Prince's heritage to single out as unfit for 

habitation among the faithful, to view them 

with scorn and derision while hailing the 

miraculous deliverance proffered by the Almighty

through a Jewish heritage as a light unto the

world in one fell swoop gifting the world with

the brilliant light of salvation gratefully 

accepted while rejecting iniquitous Judaism.

 

 

Who Would've Thought?!

The animal kingdom is just full of surprises.

Who might have believed that those clever

creatures might become model Germans?

Introduced to Deutschland in the 1930s just

about the time the National Socialist Party

(NAZI) came to power in the country they

thrived powerfully too, happily replicating 

themselves in a land where these predators had

no natural enemies, somewhat reminiscent

of the Nazis. And while now socialist fascism

has gone underground in Germany it is raccoons

that now enter peoples' homes to loot their

property and search for the nation's most

popular beverage. They, like the contingents

of storm troopers exhausted after busy days of

rounding up Jews, get drunk but have not yet

begun singing the Horst Wessel song nor don

the Waffen SS death's head uniform since 

both offend their sense of dignity and pride.

 

 

Dead Men Walking

There are times that even when all

around them fully understand the slender

thread that holds a target of vengeance

to life is on the cusp of shredding

the target himself is innocent of any

threat to his existence for unknown to

him the extent of the perceived threat he

poses to the aspirations and control of

the puppetmaster reaches a zenith 

at which point his life is forfeit. The stark

lesson to all but the sublimely oblivious

is to tread lightly lest your independent

thought and action betray you as an

irritant suspected of harbouring a vision

of personal attainment unapproved by

one who will never abide the presence

of competitors or critics. One after another

they absent existence by any means at hand

be it poison, hanging, de-fenestration

sharp-shooting, bombing, auto accident

and plane crashes. No one indispensable

no one exempt from the duty of loyalty.

The Forest Pollinating Meadow

From the summer wind susurrating 

through the forest canopy to the

turbulence of the forest stream

rippling over fallen trunks and

rocks along its raceway the forest

inhales and exhales the essence of

the season, the fragrance of ragweed

and goldenrod, summer's last gasps

seen in a proliferation of fall asters.

In the forest pollinating meadow

where pilotweed, Queen Anne's lace

Himalayan orchids and purple loosestrife

vie with thistles and clover to gain the

attention of hoverflies and bees the

soft fruits of late summer dangle

awaiting capture by curious jaws and

beaks, sun blazing its heat over all.

And Still They Come

To the delight of subhuman carrion-eaters posing

as helpful guides known as human smugglers

nothing dissuades the sea of humanity

intent on leaving the miseries of existence

in their countries of birth for the dream of

living as do those in the developed and

economically and socially advanced

countries they once heard of but now in

this new age of instant communication

have seen with their own incredulous eyes.

The wealth, the opportunities, the lavish

lifestyles, the mountains of food, the palatial

homes along with the luxury vehicles that

pair with them; why not for them, too? 

Little knowing, much less interested that in

those countries too the wealth of the nation

lies in the hands of the privileged. And so they

leave their homes behind, undertaking with

little trepidation perilous journeys across land and sea

fraught with dangers to realize their aspiration

to arrive on the shores of foreign lands which

shudder at the prospect of their naive expectations.

Their declarations of haven-seeking from desperate

conditions of civil war, drug wars, poverty and

persecution gain them a hearing in those nations

perplexed and wary but burdened with conscience.

Those migrants in their unstoppable numbers who

evade human predators and death on land or at sea

present a dilemma of humanitarian obstinacy. Yet

among them some will find their goal while others

approaching the wrong border encounter border

guards unprepared to escort them to an official

intake, who obey instructions to shoot on sight.

 

 

Heed The Omen of Ignominy

Consumed by the overweening vision

of itself as a global fixture of power both

feared and admired, Russia proceeded to

a demonstration of its military prowess

invading a neighbour it assumed would be

incapable of defending itself while the world

watched and awaited the outcome. Its

showcase military adventurism failed to

impress the wider world just as its victims'

plight aroused a global conscience quick

to condemn a nation that squandered its

opportunities through censure to become

the universal power it aspired to. Seeking

other avenues to glorify itself and redeem

a tarnished reputation, Russia turned to the

moon to showcase its scientific credentials

through astrophysical exploration yet there

too the fates have intervened to destroy that

mission. Clearly metaphysical powers had an

influence in suppressing a national ambition 

to shape the world and heavenly bodies to 

the powerful charm of the Russian psyche.

 

 

Did You Hear The Owl?

 

The owl spoke, his vowels languorous

and rotund, advising the forest that its

prime predator was in residence, then

repeated his advisory several times for

good measure, the whoo of it resounding

through the damp cloister of the moody interior

until each was absorbed by the forest canopy.

The forest is a place of mystery shielded

from the ever-changing sky, its dusky

interior home to vegetation posing a lethal

threat to those unable to distinguish the

edible from the baneful fruits of its various

residents. The diurnal forest boasts form and

colour of assertive intruders invading the

space of native species, some of beauty and

others undeniably harmful in the spirited way

of nature's invention. In the nocturnal hours

the owl's head swivels detecting each whisper

of movement before launching silent flight

eyes luminous in the dark, talons outspread.

 

Summit View

 

Imagine yourself to be a scientist, someone

who has spent his entire working career as

a biologist, studying the biosphere's ecosystem.

Someone who devotes his recreational time to

exploring rivers and lakes, mountains and

forests in a land where natural resources

abound, someone whose idea of pleasure is

achieved at an isolated distance from all that

is civilized to immerse yourself in the realm

that pure nature reserves for those intent on

observing wilderness close and personal. So

ascending steep mountainsides in such missions

as alpine backpacking to set up camp at a mountain

summit is the goal from which day trips to other

summits among glaciers and alpine lakes along

with marmots and picas and soaring eagles represents 

peace and tranquility. Imagine looking down at 

valleys in all directions, seeing nothing but wildfires

consuming forests below, a smouldering, charred 

landscape of utter ruin, dark billowing smoke rising 

steadily spreading and your mind turns to the image

of an atomic explosion, the cause of utter desolation.

 

Challenging Nature

 

At one time -- as in the proverbial 

'once upon a time', there was a certain

predictability of life. You could hope

and you could aspire but seldom did

beyond what your forbears anticipated.

The very rhythm of life was one of

lived expectations in synchronization

with nature and her elements. We're

free of that anchor now, so removed

from nature we hardly note its presence

for we've manipulated it as we tore

into a technological horizon people

back then would view, head spinning.

Just as nature became expendable over

time everything now falls into that

category and our entitlements have

risen far beyond what even we in our

early days might have imagined. Of

course nature is critically involved but not 

invoked; using her resources we have

industrialized and technologized the

world well beyond her simple blueprint

of survival. And in the process left

our own blueprint sprawling all over

the globe that is our home, the oceans

overrun with discards we've scattered

on the land, and the land reserved

for our imaginative creations geared

to expansive tastes which disentitle

other occupants squeezing them out of

their native habitats. Pity, that, but

after all the most intelligent, creative

life form on the planet does have the

final say, not? Right, not according to

nature's disposition and her proclivity

to allow those powerful elements of

her reign to react to the new self-rule

world of humankind, leaving us now

in a suspense of witnessing extremes of

yet another kind, inimical to ourselves.

Alpine Back-Packing

 

While I was rolling the sleeping bags, I saw two people cresting the mountain. The breathless young woman mentioned last night’s storm. I said the storm was exciting, but at 58, I’d found the climb exhausting. She laughed, said she was 37 and hadn’t thought she would make it, said she couldn’t imagine her mother even attempting the climb.

We’d left Vancouver for the three-hour drive to Long Peak. Travelling the narrow coastal highway I felt nervous seeing signs warning of falling rocks from the steel-netted cliff face.

On the winding, narrow logging road I worried about squeezing past hell-bent logging trucks. When we finally parked the car dusk was falling in the shadow of the mountain. We camped on the shale beach beside the lake, cooked dinner, admired the clear night sky, and went to bed.

Early next morning we began the drive to the trailhead. The car struggled up the steep rock-strewn road and we soon realized we weren’t about to get much closer. We shouldered our backpacks and began the hike to the forest. Either side of the road grew pearl everlasting and other floral offerings in abundance, and we continually heard the sharp squeaks of pica darting for cover.

At the trailhead the pitch was considerably intensified as we climbed the steep path. At times the scree was so loose, the path so narrow I experienced vertigo observing the valley below. Our son, a biologist, was in his element; my husband was in no distress. Their backpacks were far weightier than mine, but my legs were turning to stone, and my lungs felt like bursting.

Our son had been there before and said we’d soon be reaching the Gates of Shangri-La, a widespread rockfall over which we clambered. The rocks were huge, the area wide, and it took quite a bit of effort to find our way through it. The views, too, were spectacular, looking across from where we slowly wound our way through rocks each as large as a car, a small shed.

Another milestone; a mountain hut and around it, a vertical green meadow dissected by a narrow trail. We peered into the hut and stepped inside. A big old stove, a long table, some chairs, and upstairs a sleeping loft. There was a visitor's book, signed by people who obviously slept over, intent on a longer hike than ours, presumably. A number of the messages noted the appearance of packrats, swifting away with anything not nailed down. Not far from the hut stood a reliable and stout out-house, of which several of our party made use.

“Not long now, Mom!” shouted our son encouragingly. As I struggled up and upward following a well-worn, but quite narrow pathway up the green meadow. Finally, it appeared that he was right; we were approaching what appeared to be another landscape entirely.

A marmot greeted us as we forded a stream shooting over the mountain from a blue-green glacial lake. Above the lake, after our 8-hour climb, we pitched our tent. On a bit of a shelf in the rock. A 'bit of a shelf' is the operative word here. The floor of the tent slanted downward slightly, toward to the lake. At the far end of the lake was the dominating presence of the glacier that fed it, roaring as it melted, for this was late August.

On day-trips ascending from our camp we discovered other, smaller glacial lakes and glaciers, some blooming with red algae. We crossed other rockfalls and accessed crests where we ate lunch and gazed over unending peaks across the Stein Valley.

On one of these excursions clear skies turned suddenly dark; a thunderhead began its journey toward us. We scrambled to descend. Thunder, lightening, great gusts of wind, sleet and rain pummelled our little tent, with us huddling inside, as the temperature plummeted, but it stood fast.

When the storm finally subsided, we began to think about something approximating an evening meal. Everything around us was completely drenched. And it was, by then, quite dark. Suddenly, we saw what looked like a flare across the valley, on another mountain top, opposite to where we sat. And as the flare grew, and we understood it to be someone's camp fire, we set up a loud cheer. Obviously heard on the other side, since we heard a faint response of a cheer from them.

(Made me wonder if in their distant proximity, I was as private as I thought myself to be, squatting over a fissure in the rockface, half-hidden behind a knobbly shrub.)

We slept soundly that night, though waking occasionally. I kept thinking we were going to roll off the side of the mountain. In fact, I shifted myself sometimes, with the feeling that the slant was compelling me in a direction I had no wish to go in. And when we awoke, it was to the rushing sound of the melting glacier, at the end of that fabulous blue-green lake below us.

The clear skies of the day before, that had made yesterday such an adventure, had given way, when we awoke, to a completely overcast, bruised sky, threatening to dump once again. We made another morning excursion after a good hefty breakfast of pancakes and tea, and mandarine oranges, scrambling over the rockface to find yet another rosy-crusted glacier. Returning to our camp site, with the threat of rain undiminished, we decided to break camp and descend.

As we descended the valley I felt good and brave and happy post-adventure, yet anxious anticipating the car-sized rocks at Shangri-La, the steep, narrow defile through the forest. The extent of my surprise (and deflation) cannot possibly be imagined as, halfway through Shangri-la we passed a young man with a paniered Labrador, then a family with two young children making their way up the mountain, happy in their enterprise.

How Canadian can you get?

Insufferable Insubordination

The ultimate order of power lies in the

capable hands of none other than nature

the ultimate creator. As vast as the universe

is it is in fact but a laboratory where nature

devises her scenarios, arranges chemicals

and mixes her uncountable elixirs to produce

galaxies, their suns and the planets that

revolve around them leading her to turn 

toward the micro-level of inspiring new life

forms upon them to study the properties that 

evolve and transform. On one planet alone

that we are most familiar with she has 

created and disposed of billions of living

species most found to bore her and thus quite

expendable leaving a remaining ten million

to prove their value to this most exacting of

creators who just happens to ferociously tend

to minute details in guiding her decisions. 

Much is known of human predecessors. Much

much more is unknown and will not be known

as nature afire with the spirit of creation

creates endlessly and disposes with casual

ease. She may now be bemused that the

upstart human race has evolved as a most

impudent and insubordinate creature which

in its spoilage of nature's resources threatens

her primacy and the existence of all that

thrive, on this her least mysterious planet.

 

That Child

 

Children can be such impudent

little treasures can't they? One never

knows what outrageous observations

will spill out of their innocent little

mouths. Take my granddaughter for

example (no you cannot, she is the

only one I have), she was an incorrigibly

stubborn child, unwilling ever to take

any level of responsibility (a trait

inherited, unfortunately, from her

mother). It is these children of one's 

own once removed that have the

capacity to give pride to a grandmother's

heart or alternately, break it. Often when

she was young I would mimic that oft-

refrained "Not my fault!" to her tiny

resentful face, puckered in defiance

until a self-recognizing laugh erupted.

This is the child who even then 

exercised a sense of moral understanding

however, one that propelled her in later

years, still young, to cultivate the

ambition to become a lawyer. Few

affectations in that child, but a full

range of affectionate teasing. Her most

endearing trait, you ask? A puckish

sense of humour. On the back of one

envelope containing a carefully cursive

written letter in grade five, she wrote a

number of notes: Stay in school be cool 

(not)!; This letter is not a toy don't put

on head; Always eat your vegetables;

Some putting together required; Some

small parts age 3 and up; and finally

still on the back of the envelope: Children

under the age of 3 should not open.

Those were the days. You ask me, as a

friend, what happened to that child? 

Ah well, she became a detached adult

and I do sorely miss that child.

 

 

The Butterfly

Delicate as a soft spring breeze

Colourful as an evening sunset

She lifts her wings in a maiden flight

Leaving her milkweed birth-home

Pirouetting through the cloud-shaded

Landscape of the rain-sodden forest

Briefly flirting with nearby vegetation

Until fatigue and need guides her to a

Burdock leaf beside the rushing stream

On the forest floor where bracken

Lies in full flush of late summer

And in the silence of the late afternoon

She repeatedly folds and unfolds her

Wings, a newborn drying her dress

Ready to take her place in the unknown.

Terra Firma, Thanks

Not to question the academic and professional

qualifications of this brilliant theorist, not at all.

That a researcher in space habitation would

take his knowledge and  transform it to a

potential solution for the world's population

crowding the planet seems a tad impulsive.

There's yet room on this planet, apart from

the fact that Earth has a long way to go before

its sun withdraws from its essential-to-existence 

nurturance; say five billion years? We can wait. 

So the idea to make use of a near asteroid as a 

functioning space station specific to providing 

a habitat for a mere 700,000 people whose lives 

would emulate those of us remaining on Earth 

seems of questionable value. The asteroid itself 

revolves around the sun, as limited a life as our Earth. 

The chosen near-Earth asteroid engineered to 

provide the essence of gravity, the plan to build arable

fields and homes as a long-term project for near-term 

occupation brings to mind penal colonies of yore.

Might an intended population reflect the adventurous 

or hordes of suicidal-minded volunteers escaping the 

social bankruptcy of alienation and societal dysfunction?

 

 

In The Aftermath

 

When the wild orchestration of a 

bellowing wind and the thunder it

accompanied tired of their primal

display this summer day withdrawing

from the sky crowded with dark streaked

clouds that exhausted their burden into

the forest below birds shook their feathers

while insects resumed foraging among

the wildflowers of the pollinating

meadow alongside the stream noisily

bisecting the ravine where a great

blue heron perched just above the roiling

water suffused with fallen detritus from

above its eyes keen to identify spawn

within the spume of the rain-swollen

raceway, acute to the measure of caution

defined by the unruly flood yet skilled

in an instant strike while simultaneously

lifting its ungainly body on widespread

wings to soar into the rain-ravaged canopy.

Israeli Exceptionality

The inexplicable vicissitudes of human nature

and the primacy of tribal enmities supported

by sectarian beliefs never fail to puzzle. That

the tiny slice of the vast Middle East where

the world gave its assent to Jews to reestablish

its homeland as a place of sanctuary for its

ancient tribe of Judaeans beyond the caretaking

presence of those who never left when forced exile

scattered Jews into a global diaspora so mightily

disturbs its neighbours as an unpardonable

affront to Islam which claims ancient Judaea

as its own, refusing to recognize an old injustice

rectified when the world proved it had little

interest in absorbing Jews as equals within

their territories and Jews proved magnanimous

in assenting to the acceptance of non-Jews

within theirs in a demonstration of humanity

still fails to shatter the impenetrable walls of

hostility. In the territory where wealth is theirs

through the fortuity of natural resources the

world values for prosperity Arab nations thrive

while in contrast the tiny Jewish ancestral enclave 

derives its stable prosperity and future aspirations

through the wealth of its peoples' innovation.

Mood Drama

.

This is not the usual dusk of early evening but a

twilight cast over the forest by dark overhead

skies although the clouds have been exhausted

and rain no longer falls. Yet despite the gloom 

of the atmosphere a typical light is cast throughout

the forest from a sky bending its protective roof

of daytime illumination so like that of a clear sky

enriching the landscape and nurturing the forest's

wildflowers, seen as the orange jewelweed orchids

lean over the creek in the forested ravine, a

richness of texture and colour relieving the early

gloaming. The rain-swollen creek rushes headlong

downstream, mesmerizing in its foaming billows

music to our ears, capturing our eyes and then an

apparition of wide blue feathers rises and coasts on

the wind as a Great Blue Heron crests the forest

canopy to settle on the crown of an unseen giant.

The Ghost of Peter Pan

Never-Never land exists! Peter Pan has taken

on a new, fresh guise that began with Sunny Ways 

as he led a nation toward a future none might have 

imagined, a lived reality that nature herself has cause 

to clutch her face in astonishment for she too had never

suspected the biological determinations she created 

were merely notional. All that underwent a deep 

transformation and suddenly what was impossible 

became reality and she sulks as the world turned its 

face to a kinder, gentler Zeitgeist where certainties 

and the past have been deemed disposable and in 

their place humble genuflections to the new order 

transmit loyalty to the man in whom boyhood never 

faded, an impish spark of mischief waylaying the leader 

of a nation without borders. The staid world watches

agape as he manifests costumed and waggishly chastises

 all left in the mire of yesteryear. Deriding the laggards 

he pirouettes flawlessly as the harbinger of that New 

World Order with no constraints and no regard for the 

verities of public office, flicking his thumb at the social weal 

no less a nation's law and order, its economic well-being

and people's future aspirations in a land of great

natural resources and opportunities to advance them.

 

 

The Incidental Hunters

 

They're house companions accustomed

to the same comforts their humans live in

with no wish to exit the warmth and security

of a house, luxuriating in their due as

pampered little pets, yet like their humans

they yearn to be in the outside. Not in the

confines of a garden as pampered as they

are, but in the wilds of nature curiously

sniffing and snuffling along forest trails

an ancient collective memory lodged deep

in their subconscious that this truly is their

home. Yet in their home they become avid

hunters should ever a bee, a moth or a fly

enter for they know that flying creatures can

be cruel, stinging and threatening and they vie

between them to spring upon the intruder and

dispatch it to a deserved death that the bee

the moth or the fly evade through their own

instincts of inherited self-preservation.

Fearsome Nature

We are faced daily with news worldwide

of droughts, hurricanes, earthquakes 

floods and landslides, wildfires and cyclonic

rainfalls that turn deadly. Photographs of

firefighters facing wildfire infernos and

mass evacuations with volcanic eruptions

and massive dam failures, communities

facing privation, loss and famine leading to

mass starvation. Nature at its untamed

deadliest unleashing on an unready world

the fracturing effect of extreme elements

answerable to no human agency. Yet the

distemper of the natural world is held to be

nature's reaction to humanity's misuse of

resources at world disposal to advance the

fortunes of humanity carving geological

formations to extract the substances meant

to enhance societies' ease and wealth. And

though a tornado struck nearby our home

wreaking havoc and pain we fortunate ones

take our leisure through standing forests

of nearby approach to revel in the beauty

and majesty of raw nature in the moment.

 

Inconsequential

You've known her as a neighbour for decades

a down-the-street neighbour married to a much 

older man who left his wife and two children for her. 

And as he aged and became infirm foreign travel

beckoned time and again, he to remain in situ she 

to explore the world as a tourist for whom nothing 

and nowhere should be unfamiliar. When he could 

no longer care for himself following surgeries to 

sustain life, time came to move into an end-of-life 

hospice where dementia moved in with him and 

she who demurred at any personal sacrifice of time 

and energy blithely informed the street he had died 

while she was on a trip to Greece. This latest trip 

was to Tuktoyaktuk, NWT and on  her return 

up close and personal to show you photos she suddenly 

yelped !oh! and moved well back. The memento 

of that trip was a COVID infection and while she is 

duly medicated it slipped her mind she is also infectious. 

She always said she intended to age as gracefully 

as you and now near 90 you may not, after all.

The Play's The Thing

The voice-over speaks in mellow tones

of regret at passion spent when the

lightning rod of love loses its fire as a

narrative of unravelling interdependence

on companionship and responsibility  

collapses inert and unresponsive. Time

for the players to gather their costumes

and exit stage left while the audience

transfixed as with any wreckage nods in

sympathy overlaid with derision for the

dissolution of a love match between a

narcissist and a naive emblem of female

trust that love is the ribboned tie that binds

has frayed beyond redemption and her

dignity and value demands a withdrawal

from a play whose second act failed to 

lead to the aspirational journey into the

beyond of memories and elderly years.

Love Lies A'Bleeding

Smug with the confidence of certainty

ordinary people never in doubt of their

sexual orientation that nature ordained for

them held nothing but contempt and overt

hostility for gays and lesbians who defied

the roles that nature intended in procreation

until finally reason prevailed over the passion

of hate transmuted to acceptance and finally

respect for another way of life and love. 

But life and human nature are complex and

idiosyncratic bringing to the fore the issue

of gender dysphoria and the appearance of

boys becoming girls and girls eschewing their

female roles for the comfort of male personae

claiming to unite their brain with their body

igniting a storm of controversy. Now no one

is content in a maze of gender mysteries laying

bare a vast array of choices turning even

those among them in a dismay of rejection.

Gays and lesbians see the premise of their

inalienable rights threatened, the transgendered

claim oppression of disbelief, parents are

aghast their parental rights are alienated

others urging on gay children the lesser societal

burden of altering their birth gender and 

the transgendered are affronted that the

community of drag queens diminish their

authenticity of choice. The public remains

in a state of confusion over the combustibility

of nature''s blueprint dissolved in hysteria.

 

 

Genius

 

The breathtaking achievement of a

collaboration of brilliant scientific minds

building on the discoveries and successes

of others of like persuasion in examining

the possibilities of unlocking nature's

deepest and most intriguing secrets of

existence has brought to light matters of

space, light years beyond our reckoning

while illuminating mysteries of the heavens

and all that is in fathomless space in a

never-ending search to unravel what

nature has wrought and our very own

emergence over aeons of time. Probes

capable of hurtling through interstellar space

communicating with the astrophysicists

monitoring control system panels that

instruct the probes to adjust their antennae

toward Earth, reliant on the expertise of

the scientists to send precise data enabling

ongoing communication, a complex formula

of man manipulating the flight and data of

a superbly designed craft unlocking the

universe for study, suddenly take a leave of

absence, sent incorrect instructions, left an

orphan isolated, billions of remote miles away.