No words
Are forthcoming
Some images
Must be allowed
To speak for themselves
Some images
Must be allowed
To speak for themselves
I suppose that is the way
Of rainforest life
I hanker for the sun
Complain about the wet
But it exhausts me
when the sun stays too long
I watched it pucker and peel
In successive seasons
Of wet, then cold, then wet again, then heat
Since decades past
Tnorala rises
From a wide, flat plain
Dug out by a shooting star
Which fell to earth
If the bumblebee
Could do science
What world would its textbooks see
I love the chutzpah of communities
Which plunk themselves down on the edge of a continent
That the sea has been ferociously taking back
Since the land was born
In a landscape
Buffeted by winds
Battered by waves
The land and flora
Shaped, shattered,
Broken and splintered
The sandstone
Began to rise
Some 200 million
Years ago
Leaving the water to carve
An infant, a toddler
The geological child
Of a mother, Earth, 4 billion years old