Nations whose ideologies, values
and priorities bring them in
constant differences and conflicts
minor and hugely major, still
share between themselves
serviceable advances to enlarge
and provide expeditious advantage
for humankind in gestures that
transcend antagonisms of politics
and social functions based on the
practical needs of co-operation
when the rewards are obvious
and mutually attainable.
In the fields of medical science,
engineering, Internet technology,
workplace safety, best agricultural
practices and advances in animal
husbandry, astronomy and physics,
much is gained by useful collaboration,
time-saving sharing and financial
enterprise representing the heights
of human achievement.
These potentials occur when residual
animosities and disagreements
are surmounted, when human need
and ingenuity persuades us that there
is far more to be gained through
prevailing upon politics to permit
science and basic human interests
to ultimately gain the upper hand
over limiting self-absorption.
Sublimely well, thanks to the
seasonal prevalence of
soil-warming, nurturing radiance
of the sun returned to our
northern hemisphere, urging
shrubs, trees, perennials, to
emerge from their winter stupor.
As the sap returns to its place
above tree roots, life emerges
and pale green shoots slip from
dormant stasis to reclaim their
birthright, proudly renascent,
fragrant and lovely with flowers
presaging fruits of a near-distant
season, leaving us blissful with
fulfillment and expectations.
Then, the elements intrude upon
the idyll, swiftly transformed from
ideal to unobligingly extreme.
The cooling breeze has altered its
shape, its acceleration, its function
and benevolence to become a vile,
destructive influence on gardens.
Whose parts of their sum total flail
helplessly, as apple trees crack and
swoon to the ground; irises and
hydrangea, bellflowers, plaintain
lilies, ranunculus, geraniums,
splay in undignified distress.
In our garden the serendipitous
symmetry of form and function
display their exquisite qualities
of seasonal inevitability; a burst
of divine beauty as trees and shrubs
proffer a too-brief vision of
splendidly arrayed ornamentation.
The laden, luscious magenta of
giant magnolia blossoms sending
their fragrance to compete with the
bridal-white of the crabapple petals,
the bright orange of the Japanese
quince in flower, and the minuscule
yellow florets brightening the tidy
green abundance of the weeping pea.
Hovering bees fly purposefully
from flower to irresistible flower
dipping their feet in the munificence
of yellow pollen, their own bright garb
resembling lanterns of transient light.
Hummingbirds, ever alerted to floral
nectar, wings thrumming, iridescent
bodies gleaming, flit among the
flowers; an ephemeral presence.
Hamza al-Khatib, a 13-year-old Syrian boy who disappeared following an anti-government protest in late April, appeared to have been brutally tortured before his death. Pictures have added fat to the fire in the ongoing Syrian revolt.
The Arab Spring that brought the world
sharply to incredulous attention appears,
somehow, to have metamorphosed into a
springboard heralding the Arab Winter
of their discontent unanswered, leaving
the social revolutionaries who passionately
gathered in their demanding numbers to
protest failure of fundamental human rights.
The varied response has been polarized and
polarizing, from surface assurances of
long-awaited lifting of civil restraints - and
opposing sectarian violence and endemic
corruption - to outright military responses,
resulting in mass funerals and sorrowing
but hardily resilient, determined protesters.
The hard lesson being learned: That in
some parts of the world where heritage
and tradition preclude enlightenment,
popular demands for change to benefit
society become criminal acts of civil
and religious disobedience, the penalty
for which becomes violent death.
In hindsight, the detested dictator
seems downright benevolent when
compared to successors steeped in a
cauldron of fanatical resolve to implement
a reign of theocratic oppression and terror
- too late, however, to easily reverse the tide.
Rain, rain go away
the restless gardener
wants to play. No
longer the muted palette
of winter months,
the garden beckons
in hues of fuchsia
and gold, violet and mint,
umber and emerald,
scarlet and cream.
Complacent itself
under the gentle pulse
of accelerated advance
thanks to the steady rain,
the garden, blase and
independent of our
ministrations, revels
in its allegiance with
the elements, placidly
denying the conceit
of devoted gardeners.
The damp-dedicated humidity and
bruised-cloud breadth of sky represent
the stubborn remnants of days
and nights of unrelenting rain.
The forest has responded with
whatever resistance it can manage
once absorption levels are reached;
its vast floor resembling a swamp,
tree roots drowning and bright
new leafage hastened. The graceful
fronds of Solomon's seal and the
plenitude of ferns revel in their
shaded, water-logged preference.
Crows croak from their bare
spire perches atop storm-shattered
trees. Moss lavishly furs the downed
trunks of generations of expired
trees in a climax forest. Hawks circle
the rain-sodden air, shrieking their
territorial imperative. A green
tumble of bedding grasses, cow vetch,
violets and lilies under blooming
Hawthorns crowd the ad hoc wetland.
The compost-mass of years' layers of pine
needles gleam rusted orange in the
sodden landscape. Dogwood are setting
their spring floral bouquets, hazelnuts
their fruit, honeysuckle their delicate,
fragrant blooms. Pests of the woodlands
pursue their life goal of species survival,
seeking the blood of hosts in the endless
cycle of nature's complacent renewal.
This has been yet another of
Nature's dark, moody days:
clearly she is in a fit of pique.
Was it something we did?
Hard to feel contrite when
we're uncertain just how to
slog along and accept
what we can not possibly
on our own initiative, alter
hoping her gloom will
soon dissipate so we can
once again acclaim her
generous nature and forget,
as we're prone to doing, what
an incendiary nature she has.
