THREE SUMMER POEMS (reflections on climate change)
These three pieces
were written through the summer- first just before it started, then
in midsummer and lastly towards the end. They incorporated some
reflections and feelings about climate change- something that I
believe may turn out to be the greatest challenge we all face in the
near future and about which, in my opinion, we are still doing too little,
too late.
WAITING FOR THE CHANGE
late November Georgica
These
are last days of spring
but
summer's now-
from
blue-white sky
unceasing
heat pours down,
surrounding
all the grass and trees,
still
green by ground of recent rain,
now
feeling solar power.
So
summer time will stretch the hours
that
reach towards forty by degrees
and
now the shade beneath the small
red
cedar trees seems dark
and
other trees hide wallabies
in
stillness and in shadow.
And
all the brightness narrows eyes;
and
all the world seems bleached with light.
Some
know we have to grow, decrying
all
limits of reality...
but
I have heard this day
of
heated forests, world-wide, dying.
A
southern wind arises now
sways
tall gum trees, makes many leaves
endow
air flow with rustling sound.
Its
coolness promises a passing
of
such vast heat for some relief
and
I am glad to wait for change
predicted
so
as
weather-wise belief.
Yet
in my heart there shines no gladness
in
looking towards a world to be
warmed
by waste gas beyond its order-
and
I'm not glad to wait for change
to
that new world grown wild and strange.
END
OF HOT DAY
Midsummer Georgica
NSW
End of hot day. Fierce sun has
vanished now.
Yet still bright twilight lights
west-lying cloud-
Forms spreading yellow-greying in
pale vastness.
Are they the heralds of new rain
in darkness?
A final butterfly of day flits
by,
Above the seed-tipped grasses,
summer-high.
Black crows flap towards the
heights of night-safe trees,
Soft-rustling topmost leaves in
slightest breeze.
Now eastern hills are briefly
tinged with gold-
The Midas touch of day's
last-passing role.
Above them crescent moon is
growing bright
In sky that's fading towards the
rise of night.
The heat is falling and the
world's inclined
To pass into the shadow side of
time
Where stars will show the darker,
cooling hours,
Bring some retreat from blaze of
solar power.
And in the cooling darkening of
sight,
I ponder in the passing to the
night
How storms and rains have saved
the summer here
From drought's despair and
greater fire-fear.
How long will fortune's blessing
last? How long?
I hear of terror, fire-born,
beyond
The scant horizon of my turning
days-
Devouring, roaring flames, the
deadly blaze.
I hear of fiercer storms with
fury from
The trapping of the energy from
sun;
As change, without a harbour or a
haven,
Becomes our sadness like a war
from heaven.
SUMMER'S ENDING
Georgica, NSW
Late February
The
summer's ending yet bright day
burns
with late-season heat.
The
sky is gathering some western cloud
foretelling
storm at night, perhaps.
The
day is hot yet when gold sun
rose
through white mist that drifted up
from
lying on the hills,
while
dew drops on the grass
were
bright as stars...
I
felt a trace of chill, a touch
reminding
me of autumn yet to come
and
winter following.
The
summer's ending now
and
yet it must be so,
as
seasons cycle and we walk the track,
the
track of time as change must come.
Yet
in the circle of the seasons
are
rhythms that repeat and give
a
sureness to the months and years-
the
small red cedar trees
are
full and fine with leaves
but
by the winter light
their
green will all be shed
so
buds of spring can bring new finery.
Yet
with our sad and silly dream that we
have
conquered and control the world
with
industries and cities like
infection
ever-spreading on the face of earth,
we
push the cycle out of shape.
The
summer of our pride is ending...
and
this I fear- how we shall pay for this.
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