Coffee Break

ChrisComments Off on Coffee Break
Posted in General Scribbles

Written after stopping for a coffee shortly after a storm.

Coffee Break

The leaves continue to rustle in their lifelong tussle with the wind,
The ground, so harshly treated after yet another heartless deluge,
Warms and dries and forgives it’s haughty neighbour her sins,
The insects scan the land for scar tissue,
The birds scan for insects as I view the landscape for damage,
And find, to my relief, only fresh new colours and tiny rainbows amid the dew.

Curved Air

ChrisComments Off on Curved Air
Posted in Scribbles
I can see the wind long before it blows against me.
Smooth clouds of invisible ether overlapping,
circulating, undulating. A polished burr of free,
lolloping, playful power. A delight. I suppress
my smile until sudden along comes a gust,
a blot of startled air tearing, rippling, possessed.
Exhausting, fading slowly then consumed.
I am a riddle in it’s grip, unsettled by it’s caress.

Wolves

ChrisComments Off on Wolves
Posted in Scribbles

This short poem was in my head when I woke one night. I have since only changed one word and wrote it out in a single, quick pass. Strange how something like that can happen. Hardly great poetry, mind you!

Wolves

There. Just there. In the distance.
There is a wolf calling. I think it is a wolf.
Some long distant compatriot, trying to awaken me.
I fear it has been too long. I seldom feel the cold.
Generations led to this, to question and not to obey.
I am trapped in a cage, numbed, desensitised.
Native Americans, it is claimed, used alcohol.
Humbling the ancient inside, shutting it in,
Drowning out the wolves trying to awaken us all.