Three Poems

“Sprawled amongst the heather, their laughter rings like bells and birdsong…”

After the Rain

The world around me feels decaying
stifled full of Life and green.
Leaves on stems on moss on grass:
A mass, a wait of years it seems.
The reign is over,
mist lighter than my shadow, shallow
when drops from tree tops are thicker, heavy with expectance.
I move as they fall, their energy is mine.
The Thunder left them quivering, He will be back in time.
‘til then I roll and duck, and die,
as in my imagination trees collapse and
roll themselves to paper and bound I draw my last: A scene
beyond idyllic, the canvas captured quick, a scene
with no-one in it, their lives would ruin it.Lost

Unspeaking but in sync
Entwined across a room they sit
Understanding bonds them, stronger than words express
The artist and the muse, each one to the other
Together they are lost
Lost in each other, in themselves
Lost from this world
All they have is pure
Each loves, and it matters not who
Only, completely, that they doHeather

Underneath the sky, bright and boundless,
gently reaching down to hold the Earth once more.
Underneath the sky, in amongst the Life, they lie.
Sprawled amongst the heather, their laughter rings like bells and birdsong.
Natural, here they fit and feel alive.
Nature watches without judgement; the only witness to all they do
and do not do, to all they create, destroy and create again.
Busy city streets are far behind, the unkind looks left there as well.
No hushed ironic whispers, no raised eyebrows.
Here, and maybe even here alone, they live and laugh and love as they’ve longed to all their lives.
Urges kept in check before run free and fire fills their souls.
All day they play, at night they keep the cold at bay.
Bracken burns in a merry blaze, warm hazy glows on warm contented faces.
Darkness brings the owls and bats, dancing through the firelight.
Exhausted, they fall back into the landscape, and
sprawl amongst the heather, nothing can touch them.

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