02
Nov
07

Disquietude

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Disquietude

Legs swinging freely, not a care in the world,
I sit perched on a gate, observing the view.
Leaves rustle behind me, newly unfurled
and the grass at my feet is still sprinkled with dew.
Somewhere in the field, a cow softly calls
to it’s offspring, warning of dangers unseen.
The tune of the skylark as it soars and then falls,
captures the morning’s ambience, peaceful, serene.
In the distance I notice a movement so slight
that it could be the shadows of the clouds as they pass
But looking again I am blessed with the sight
of a hare zig zagging in a field of fresh grass.
The hedgerow and ditch are smothered with blooms,
some already praising the light of the sun.
The others will follow as the midday looms,
with colourful displays that are second to none.
On the horizon the faint outline of blue distant hills
mingles with the dark of a forest or wood.
With beauty such as this, my soul rapidly fills
with joy and humility, as surely it should.

Each continent, country, no matter how small,
has it’s own kind of beauty, special and pure.
An abundance of beauty, so much to enthral.
Precious legacy, its future you’d want to ensure.

So why all the greed, pollution and war?
Designed deliberately, destined to destroy
every good thing on earth; plunder, down to the core
all this planet can offer; all there is to enjoy.
We have no rights over skylarks and hares.
We have no rights over forests and grass.
Nor over the legacy left to our heirs.
There is no going back if you’ve shattered the glass.
As usual it’s left to a minority to decide.
Guaranteed apathy, indifference, oppression.
But how can man risk so much, and nature deride
for his own selfish exploits, his lust for possession?

I jump down from the gate, my sadness weighs heavy.
Everything in this world has a price or a levy.

© DF 2007

Photograph coutesy of Richard Cocks

 

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