A rabbit sitting
on the lawn, in
the shade, under
a trailer. For once
relaxing, sleeping,
safe from death
screaming
out of the sky
Category: ecology
Seasons in the Sun
Impossible to
decide which season
would be best to die in:
Summer with its heat
and blue skies;
Autumn with
hints of frost and snow;
Winter with the warmth
of hearth and home:
Spring with flowers
and promise of flowers.
But whichever I choose
I would be desolate not to
see the following one.
Numbers racket
How many stupid
and ignorant people
does it take to
destroy a planet?
I guess we’ll find
out pretty soon.
Sparrow dreaming
I don’t mind sparrows
though I guess I should.
They didn’t ask to
come to this alien
continent, and they are
trying to make
the best of it.
Dread
Summer is coming
like a giant
steamroller,
belching smoke
and flame,
sounding like a
hurricane wind
as it flattens
all in its path
Valediction
I have never
had, in a long life
of creating ideas,
and things, a serious
review of any of it. No
serious consideration
of what was attempted,
what were the problems,
what was achieved.
But then you don’t get that
for your life itself
I suppose,
She shows them pearly white
The saying
“as rare as hen’s teeth”
only works if, now and
then, a hen is born
with teeth. But in this
world, though not in
the Age of Dinosaurs,
the saying should be
“as non-existent
as hen’s teeth”.
Words words words
How many millions
of words have I
written?
Half a million in
one book alone,
other millions
scattered from one
end of my life to
the other.
It would be nice
to think one or two
will be remembered,
else why did I bother?
Idyll
A country garden
sounds like a quaint,
quiet, idyllic place,
where Percy Grainger
could write a chirpy
piece of music which
goes nowhere.
If the country is
Australia though
the country garden is
a place green
in tooth and claw.
Plants struggle against
wind and drought,
rabbits, parrots
possums and kangaroos,
pigs, goats, sheep,
weeds and rocks and
soil that repels moisture,
and bushfires that
constantly threaten
to burn the lot.
Counting plants in the
morning, vigilant
for snakes in the grass,
is about as
relaxing as a shepherd
counting sheep.
No room in the neurones
He who is
tired of learning
has been doing
it for seventy
three years and
needs to rest
