High White or Mossy

I used to live alone

In a high, white, house.

Sepulchral and remote,
Stone built,
It felt like ancient bones.

Now I live in
A quite different place,
Verdant,
Ringing with voices,
And the sound of water!

My desert house
Would crack in the sun at noon.
My forest house is flexible,
Stretching with sunshine
As it falls through the leaves.

Desert thought was ever clear and other.
Green thought is chaotic but always now!

Tatanka Beat

Thunder

Thunder

Little Brother

Do you hear them

Drumming deeply

They are coming

Little Brother

To reclaim

Their holy land

Thunder

Thunder

Little Brother

Ancient herds

Are drumming deeply

And your gentle

Feathered Brother

Leads them onward

Take my hand

You can follow

Little Brother

Herd and tribe

Are one again

Thunder

Thunder

Little Brother

Heart of beast

And soul of man

Feathers on the lawn!

I live in Catford
And there are feathers
On my front lawn!
A fox has killed a seagull!
Nothing odd in that
Foxes killing seagulls
Among the cats and dogs
And neat thirties semis.

At night there are
strange jungle noises.
Weird sounds
Of things possibly dying!
Not people, I suppose!
But, that does happen!
The odd stabbing
Or shooting
In Catford
Shortly to be
By the Sea.

Hither Green Station

Its the first of February

And I can see
A blackberry ripening
Under an apple tree.
But we smile and ignore it!

It cannot be
We will not see
A blackberry ripening
In February.
So we smile and ignore it!

But it's still there!

Soulmate

Once, just once in time,
Comes a soul mate.
Someone chimes your bells.
And you know,
Their world, not yours,
Is your future.
Not love,
Not attraction,
Something more fundamental.
Like a vibration in the earth.
There it is!
You will be one with them
And find your peace.
That other part of you
Will make you complete..

Tears of the earth

Our mother earth is weeping
Hot salt tears.
And her sobs
Shake our foundations.
Can't you hear our mother weep?
We, her children
Born of her soil,
Put together with twig
A blade of grass, 
And the voice from a song bird,
Don't listen.
Forgive us.
Let your mighty rivers
Cleanse us.
Let your hot, earthy, tears
Reach us.
Let us feel what we don't hear!

Three Buffaloes

When I see three buffaloes.
When the mystic buffalo
Tramples my earth.
And the breath from his nostrils
Warms me in the frosty morning,
Then will it be.
We shall become spirit of spirit
And all nature one.
When I see three buffaloes.