The kingfisher rises out of the black wave
like a blue flower, in his beak
he carries a silver leaf. I think this is
the prettiest world — so long as you don’t mind
a little dying, how could there be a day in your whole life
that doesn’t have its splash of happiness?
There are more fish than there are leaves
on a thousand trees, and anyway the kingfisher
wasn’t born to think about it, or anything else.
When the wave snaps shut over his blue head, the water
remains water–hunger is the only story
he has ever heard in his life that he could believe.
I don’t say he’s right. Neither
do I say he’s wrong. Religiously he swallows the silver leaf
with its broken red river, and with a rough and easy cry
I couldn’t rouse out of my thoughtful body
if my life depended on it, he swings back
over the bright sea to do the same thing, to do it
(as I long to do something, anything) perfectly.
Tag » Ecology
Sage sips the dryness from the hillside
Grasses twitch erect
Distant river gargles rocks
Lichen grows orange on stone.
We wait under a half moon while
The heat dispels and mountains
Swell with purple.
What do you bring us?
Lamar Valley sweeps clean
The ticky-tacky tally of centuries.
Bison rumble patiently
With primordial power
In their skeleton mass and wool.
Waiting while mountians purple
We are touched by the flicker
Of starkly wild lives
Clear and raw before our eyes.
A glimpse of your society
So rightly afraid of ours;
A look into your knowing eyes
So readily like ours;
To see you moving freely
Along the valley we can only visit,
To see you claiming your game and your land
Feeds the tiny bead of hope that has receded
To our innermost souls as the forest falls.
If we can see a Wyoming wolf tonight
Perhaps we will see the Earth cool down some
Mabon Sept-Oct 2007 Earth First!