The trees knew of our coming.
In that secret way the trees possess
they knew of us and welcomed us.
God made the wind
that they might wave
a greeting to us when we came.
And do they wave in friendship still,
in fury or in sadness at the way
we've butchered them?
The land knew of our coming.
In that secret way the land has
it knew us from the first.
God gave the land its greenery
that it might spread a carpet
for us when we came.
And has it still those feelings,
now that we have raped
it half to death?
The sea knew of our coming.
In that secret way that water has,
it hugged us, would not let us go.
So God set up a tryst for us
that it and we might grow
a romance that would last.
And is the love still mutual
now that it's felt the power
of what is human and obscene?
The moon petals the sea. Rose petals the sea. Stone sea. Stone petals. Rose petals of stone. Stone rising before me. Sea moves. How moves...
extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
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