BEES

BEES

Through blazing sunshine's warming rays,
On the summer breeze,
Through lazy day's hot, drowsy haze,
Come the humming bees.

Their gazes trace the sun's sky place
To guide them to sweet treasure;
As they go buzzing through day's space
And run the hive-dance measure.

A lizard lies in lazy ease,
Snoozing through the hours;
But round these blossoming lemon trees,
These bees visit flowers.

Still busy, buzzing bees are coming,
As a cloud around-
Surrounding blooms with golden humming:
Honeycomb of sound.

THE NAMING OF THE DAYS

THE NAMING OF THE DAYS

Sunday is the sun's own day;
Powerful-glows his warm, bright ray.

Monday has the moon's fine sign;
Pale and silver-white her shine.

Tuesday carries Tiw's name;
Strength of courage is his claim.

Wotan's day is Wednesday here;
Wisdom brings he, deep and clear.

Thursday's Thor, whose hammer blow
Makes thunder roll and lightning glow.

Friday comes from Freya the Fair;
Goddess of love with golden hair.

Saturn rules on Saturday;
Father Time moves on his way.

So once more comes Sunday's dawn;
Seven more days will be born.

Seven days, forever new,
These are days all named for you.

FOUR SUMMER HAIKU

FOUR SUMMER HAIKU
ONE

Wind surfers furrow
Sun-rippling water. Bright sails.
Summer butterflies.

TWO

Mowing summer-high
Lawn reduces to ruins
Empires of ants.

THREE

Past waving, wet grass-
Dragonfly. Four wings flashing
Summer on the breeze.

FOUR

Listen to warm night.
Wide river ripples bright moon;
Whispering silence.

CITY MORNING

CITY MORNING

Earth’s journeyed through the turn of night;
The sun’s upon our sky.
Day slips the city into gear.
The morning mass migration’s here.

Clocks’ shrill awakening.
The dreaming eyes are opening
And looking with daysight,
And seeing in the given light.

Now people wake and dress and eat:
Day-starting rituals, habit-neat.
And carlines fill road patterns,
And carriages track metal trails.

Clocks mark workstart. Commuters yawn.
And humankind
moves past another dawn.

IF THINGS COULD SPEAK

IF THINGS COULD SPEAK

If things could speak I wonder what they’d say?
What’s cried by ravens rising with the day?
Or growled by restless lions behind zoo bars?
Or bellowed by a bull in some far field?
What secrets could be whispered from the stars?
Old mother earth revolving through the hours?
In buried, ancient stones what tales are sealed?
What’s written in the shapes of fruits and flowers?
What’s felt by worms that feed on fallen leaves?
What songs are sung by dolphins in the seas?
A storm wind whistling through the swaying trees?
What meaning’s hummed by sun – warm, buzzing bees?
What words would echo from the boom of thunder?
If only things could speak to us, I wonder?

CAT AT DAYBREAK

CAT AT DAYBREAK

I see, at break of day when first birds stir,
The cat awake and taking in the scene.
The first light catches on her long, white fur
And shapes her, sphinx-like, from the general green.

And as she sits upon the dew-damp lawn,
With yellow eyes she sees the yellow dawn.

THE LION AND THE MOUSE

THE LION AND THE MOUSE

A lion was sleeping peacefully,
Beneath a great and shady tree,
When a tiny mouse ran cheekily
Across his heavy paw;
Which made him wake up suddenly
And give a mighty roar.

His paw upon the mouse he clapped
And held the little creature trapped.
“How dare you wake me while I napped
Beneath this shady tree?
I've half a mind to eat you up
For acting cheekily!”

“Oh, spare me, spare me, please, dear lion,
Oh, spare this little life of mine!”
The small mouse begged. “I'm sure I'll find
A way to pay you back!
Yes, please, great king of beasts, be kind
And you'll be glad of that.”

Now this amused the lion no end;
“You are so proud, my little friend.
How could you help me or defend
A creature such as I?
I'm great, you're small. And yet I'll send
You on your way to try.”

Quite soon, however, it came to be
That hunters caught the lion and he
Was tied up to a mighty tree:
Bound strongly, tight and trim;
While they went off, quite hurriedly,
To fetch a cage for him.

The little mouse heard his wild roar
And scurried up to him to gnaw
The knot that bound him. More and more
Rope strands he nibbled through,
Until the lion with one heave tore
The binding rope in two.

“My tiny friend, my mighty power
Would not have saved my skin just now,”
The great lion purred. “But you, this hour,
Though you're so weak and small,
Could help me with your smart know-how
To do what I could not at all!”

“My mighty friend, my tiny power
Has saved you from the hunters now,”
The small mouse squeaked. “There comes an hour
When even the strongest need
A little help. You see, that's how
I have paid back your kindly deed!”

THE KOOKABURRA CALLS AT DAWN

THE KOOKABURRA CALLS AT DAWN

Kookaburra, kookaburra,
All your laughter, all your laughter
Rings across the rising dawn.
Kookaburra, kookaburra,
All your laughter, all your laughter
Calls the new day to be born.
Calls the laughter of the light,
Bringing all the world new sight.

Kookaburra, kookaburra,
Waking all the world from slumber,
Calling all the world to wonder
At the power of the sun
And the new day’s that’s begun.

SONG OF THE SUN

SONG OF THE SUN

Come beams of light from heights of space,
And shine and ray upon this place.
Come chase the coldness from the air;
Bring warmth and light to everywhere,
And heat the stones and ripen grain.
Disperse the clouds on which you gaze
With your clear-wise and fiery blaze.
Shine out upon the storm-wet leaves,
And let the birds sing in the trees.

Come, oh gentle sunbeams, come.
Warm the earth where tempests played;
Kiss the flowers with soothing rays.
Summon lizards from beneath brown leaves.
Let the birds fly from the trees
Into the vastness of the air
To wing on warming currents there.

Shine and shine, oh, warming blaze.
Beam and beam your burning rays;
Change air into a shimmering haze,
And bring my fire to the old earth now.
Butterflies dance from flower to flower,
Humming bees seek nectar there,
Through the drowsy, heavy air.
Glitter and glow on sea and land,
Spread your heat on every hand.
Fill the world with colour; light
The world around with blazing might!

FOUR AUTUMN HAIKU

FOUR AUTUMN HAIKU

ONE
Clouded autumn dusk’s
Stillness. From roadside’s dark bank
One lone cricket calls.

TWO
By ghost sphere afloat
In autumn blue, flash white wings –
Seagull and the moon.

THREE
The gold moon sets in
Late darkness. Autumn wind sighs
Through a half-built house.

FOUR
Black on an autumn
Rose-gold dusk, in slightest breeze,
High, thin gum leaves dance.

GARUDA

GARUDA

Garuda, god bird of the light,
Sweep down upon the dark of night.
Snatch up the serpent of the shadow,
And bear it to the sun-clear height.

Garuda, with your wings like flame,
Swoop down upon the gloomy plain,
Defeat the warriors of night.
With your swift arrow rays of light.

Sing of the light,
Sing of clear sight,
Praise to the sun,
The clear – shining one.

Spread your wide wings
Like far – reaching seeing,
Knowing all things
To the depths of their being.

Garuda, god-bird of the sun,
Tell us that the dawn has come,
Banish all the mists of night
With your wings of dazzling light!

Garuda, with your shining flight,
Bring us all the gift of sight!

THE WINGS OF THE HOURS

THE WINGS OF THE HOURS

Twenty-four birds at the break of the day;
Twenty-four birds fly up and away.
Some of them pearl, some golden-bright,
Twenty-four birds rising up in swift flight.

Some of the moon, some of the sun;
Each of them soaring, one after one.
Some fly in silence, some sing a song-
But when they have flown, where have they gone?

THE BREEZE ASKS THE LEAVES

THE BREEZE ASKS THE LEAVES

Oh, green leaves on the trees,
Will you sing with this breeze,
Will you whisper and hustle,
Will you flutter and bustle,
Will you sing out my soft-breathing song?
Oh, green clusters on high,
Will you chatter and sigh,
As I rush right along?
Will you murmur and swish,
Will you rustle and hiss,
Will you sing to the songs of my choice?
Will you be this wind's voice?

Oh, you faded, dead leaves,
Will you fall from your trees,
Will you dance with this breeze?
In pale crowds I can clutch,
Will you stir to my touch?
Oh, you leaves that are shed,
Brown, yellow, and red,
Will you scatter and twirl,
Will you run, roll, and swirl,
Will you race, leap and whirl,
Will you follow my far-roaming beat?
Will you be this wind's feet?

SHELL ON THE SHELF

SHELL ON THE SHELF

A sand-snail shell rests on the shelf,
with time-traced whorls of growing’s curve,
a swirl of logarithmic spiral.

And so it sits in still completedness,
far from the vast, wave-rippled ocean;
so purely formed, brown and alone,
far from its forming, slow creation,
where curves of water, time and life
were gradually gathered into stone

THE MIDAS BIRD

THE MIDAS BIRD

Perched upon a dead, gray tree,
A single ibis views
A valley ringed by twilight hills-
But, from where I stand, I see
Far sun west-gleaming golden hues.
And suddenly,
With a Midas touch, it wills
The white bird into gold for me.