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...
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extract from the poem Koi by John Burnside All afternoon we've wandered from the pool to alpine beds and roses ...
It all depends, you see, how you go about it. And that I cannot tell you, for that will be dictated by you and by you knowing your friends...
A Birthday in April ~ Wordsworth Prompt from The Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (The first of three posts which will celebrate the l...
Sunday, 8 April 2012
Birds of Prey for Easter Sunday Morning
Killing machines a case in point:
Nature was there before mankind -
and long before mankind - caught on.
These birds are such machinery:
each aspect of them is a piece
of specialised equipment, meant
for war. Nothing gratuitous.
Their eyes are not the general
optics known to us, they're martial
instruments designed for one thing
and for one thing only. Top of
the range, they have the power to
focus on a pinpoint in a
distant wood. Their broad wings are not
meant for forward flight alone, but
to support them as they hover
on thermals high above their prey.
Their claws do more than grip the branch.
Like beaks they tear raw flesh apart.
Their beauty is a side-effect:
fitness for purpose fashioned it.
The most efficient way to kill -
like any most efficient way -
produces living works of art.
Great beauty wheels across the sky.
from a picture prompt provided by <"http://nineacresdesigns.com/">Tracey Grumbach at <"http://dversepoets.com/"> dVerse Poets Poetics
(Apologies for these errors. Nothing I can think to try will make a difference. I am afraid you will need to cut and paste the addresses.)
Heard this morning that for the twelfth year in succession peregrine falcons are nesting at the top of the tower of Chichester Cathedral. They are incubating four eggs.