spiralarc

A very good friend gave to me

Some seeds of the Pepper Dew

A delicious additive to every salad or stew

I duly planted them and the seedlings grew

I watered them both morn and night

It was not a heavy load

Little did I know they would become

The abode of my nemesis – Mr Toad

No simple Rosé Pot for him this time

No shady nook or cranny

He had to find the dampest Earth in which to insert his body

And so I will rest my pen and find a dozen pots with no more ado

To fill with Earth and replant those little baby pepper dews

Give each and every one a new Berth

But Mr Toad – I think I will leave

Buried in the Earth

I Am as just a Wisp of Spray

Up from a Wave Front Thrown

Imagining Myself to Be

Born Free to Ride upon the Wind

For some Precious Moments I

Live within this Illusion

Until the Truth begins to Dawn

As Downwards tends my Motion

Back towards the Mother Wave

Towards the Awesome Ocean Roar

To find Myself

A Drop no More

But Unindividuated

I find Myself to Be

An Endless Limitless

Eternal Sea

A

An Imperial Eagle flew over my head Today

As if to Put me in my Place and Say

That although I could Pay for a Seat

And take my Place up in the Air

I never the Cool Air would feel

Ruffling my Feathers coursing over my Tail

As I Tilt and Shift without a Thought

Re- Focusing my Invisible Trail

As I Rise and Lift on Streams of Air

Harnessing Nature’s Power

All without Extraction or Engineering

Or even a Flight Control Tower

I Watched in Awe and Called to Her

My Cries lost to the Wind

But I felt our Connection

I felt her Condescend

To Look on Down on Poor Ground Locked Me

In Sadness and in Sympathy

Never to Know the True Joys of Flight

To Balance on the Winds so Light

But then she grew Bored of my Company

Tipped a Wing and Soared Away

Away to Westward in Hunting Mode

Not travelling High but Gliding Low

Eyes to the Ground where the Landlocked Live

Some of whom their Lives would Give

And their Atoms Soar into the Heights

Vicariously to Enjoy the Gift of Flight

As I sat in the Sun writing my Notes

Drinking Orange Juice Freshly Squeezed

The Scent of Neroli thick in the Air

From the Newly Flowering Orange Trees

I Felt a Strange Sensation upon

The Calf of my Right Leg

On Glancing Down I almost Spilled

The Juice all down my Front

Toad of Rose Pot was Returning

From his Nightly Hunt

I had not Encountered Him

For many Winter Months

But Now it Seems he is Active

And not Scared to Lay his Claim

Upon my Leg or any other Aid

That could Help Him to Venture

And Climb into the Shade

It Seems he has found a Shady Nook

Very Close by where I

Read or write my books

An Old White Crock Broken But

Far too Lovely to Throw

So into a Corner I had it placed

Thinking Plants would Grow

Up behind it and Overflow

But now Clever Toadie has Found a Spot

Without commandeering another Rose

From its’ Own Rose Pot

Hiding Under Hottentot Fig

Completely Invisible Secure and Safe

I am so Glad to Know that

Toadie has found a most convenient

New Place

I hear a Cuckoo Calling

In the Early Morn

I hear a Cuckoo Calling

Yes – I was up before The Dawn

She sits atop an Oak Tree

Just out of Sight or Reach

And I wonder to Whom her

Precious Egg she will release

To which Dedicated Parents

She will Entrust the Task

Of ensuring that Her Species will Survive

Into the Future – from the Past

This Life- affirming Venture

Holds Plenty of Pain in Store

For the Other Baby Chicks

Who are Destined to Endure

A Short life of Misery and

An Inglorious End

When they are Kicked down to the Floor

From the Nest that was their Birth Bed

I hope She chooses a Species that

Is not yet in Decline

And decide that Overall my feelings must Incline

To the Sanity of Nature and to Hope For

The Continuation of the Cuckoos Voice

Through each and every Spring Time

Because, despite of all of the Pain

We Humans Still Rejoice

To Hear the Cuckoo Cry

That Summer is Surely on its Way

And Most Good Things do not come Free

Someone Always has to Pay

The Ambassador Tree spoke again today

As I tended the Land

He stands a Fair Way Distant but now

Dominates the Place He Stands

Where before He spoke of Lines of Trees

Of Nature so Disturbed

Those lines now March On no more

The young Trees taken chopped to the Floor

Chopped and lopped and Trucked Away

Leaving a Bare and Barren Hillside Plot

When will Man ever Learn to Stop

When to Change Our Plan

The Ambassador Tree spoke clearly of

The Greedy Hands of Man

If only Sense would Prevail

And We Reseed the Barren Hills

With All that Nature did Intend

For these Spaces to be Filled

With Cork and Pine Honeysuckle and Thyme

Wild Sage and Azenheira

I shed my Tears and Share His Grief

Am I the only one to Hear

Ol’ Trixie was a Faithful ‘Ute’

She was always oh so willing

Throw a few Sheep or dogs or geese

Into her ‘pick-up’ back

She would Truck them anywhere

She was called upon to Truck

Across the Deserts down All kinds

Of Convoluted Tracks

Up the Mountains

Through the Forests

Crossing Creeks and Dams

Doing everything Old Tom asked of her

Until she Simply Ran Down

Ran Down Ran Out of EverythingE

Even the Will to Live

But She Lives On

Old Tom could not part with Her

She was such a Close Friend to His Heart

Now The Forest Reclaims Her Slowly

Plants and Creepers Pull her Slowly Back

To Feed the Forest

With all of the Minerals the Forest Lacks

Slowly She will Dissipate and Disappear

From View

But Trixie Truck will live on

In Old Toms Heart

And in the Growing Forest Too

There’s a Dragon in the Back Yard Mother

Oh don’t be so Silly

The Dragons all died Years Ago

The last ones name was Billy

Billy O’ Draco Dragon was his name

A Brave Fire Breathing Soul

So don’t tell me of Dragons

It just makes my Heart turn Cold

But Mother there is a Dragon here

He kind of sort of just appeared

And he has a Unicorns Spiral Horn

With colourful renditions symbols

And Emblems he is all adorned

He looks Truly Spectaculat

And nothing at all to Fear

If he did not come here by Himself

I Wonder Who put Him Here

He gives me Joy all overH

He gives me Sparkly Eyes

So do Come outside Mother

Please Mother do come Outside

If We are in Luck We Can

Go on a Draco Dragon Ride

My Mother told me tales

Of the Laughing Kookaburras

How they would Wake her in the Mornings

With their Crazy Laughter

How all the kids would Run to Play

To join their happy voices to the morning Fray

Laughing Competitions would Ensue

Who could Laugh the Longest

Or the Whole Day through

The Kookaburras always won

Laughing from Morn to Night

However Happy the Kids might be

They soon gave up the Fight

Kookaburras just Love to Laugh

They see the Funny Side of Life

As it Slides on By

They Simply Enjoy the Ride

Landing on a Handy Pole or Tree

They Let Loose their Mirth

And I Challenge you to stand on by

And Not be Moved to Laugh

So Kookaburras are a Funny Mob

I Love to Hear one or More near by

And when I do I recall my Mum

And her Tales of how she would have Loved

To come Home to this Land of Oz

To have Heard the Kookaburras

One more Time

That was Indeed her Dream

So now I listen out for her

And Drink a Glass of Wine

As the Kookaburras fall to Sleeping

Until the Next Mornings

Laughing Time

We set off My Grandchild and I

Off in the Car on an Interesting Ride

To drop off at a Holiday Job

Then I would go for a Swim and a Shopping Opp

Lunch in a cafe after a swim then wander

Around the Town Shops

Seeking out Things on a Whim

Well we had only Reached the End of the Track

When The Huntsman emerged

And placed Herself Smack

Centre Stage on the Windscreen

Like something from a Horror Movie

Or Nightmarish Dream

Being Concerned for the Health of the Spider

I pulled the Car over

And Tried to Persuade her

To leave the Car Body and Slink into the Trees

But under the Bonnet she did Scurry and Flee

So Onward we Drove

The Huntsman appearing in odd places

As we headed on Down the Road

We stopped at some Lights

For the Roadworks and Found

Smiles and varied Horrified Faces

On the People that Passed

As the Huntsman had plastered Herself

Central Screen once again for a Lark

I know not how she Held On

60 70 80 kilometres an hour

Her Stickability was Impressive

When we finally pulled under

The Shade of a Tree

There she was Hanging On

Close by the Number Plate

Her Exciting Journey

Keen to Relate

So when We Returned

And she found herself once again

On Home Ground

She emerged from the Bonnet

And Started to Preen

Calling her Friends so she could Relate

Her Journey and Appearance

On the Big Screen

No matter the Screen was simply

Part of a Car

She Appeared There and Survived

And she travelled quite Far

100 Kilometres thereabouts she has wandered

I don’t think she will now go Far from the Car

She’ll probably choose to Live there

Now she has become a Great Star

A Star of the Big Screen

A Star of the Windscreen

The Ride of the Huntsman

Become now a Tale

To tell her Grandchildren

Of just how Very Far

A Spider can Travel

At Great Speed in a Car