Angels Cry
I walk on nature’s carpet past pine trees; noble and tall
Straining my gaze to put name to melodious song bird
A swish of a branch; I turn to see a disappearing tail
Grass bubbles up from mother earth adding another dimension
In reverential ore I turn; catching sight of lichen on a tree
Rainbow colours; like coral from a tropical Northern Australian sea
Born by pine scent; I gaze upon mirrored water from Loch shore
Clouds moulded by sculptor’s knife, add tone to the waters skin
Long grass with the elegance of a ballerina; lacy arms pose
Her feathering costume spins on the spot; all framing a masterpiece
I sit on a log baring its wooden sole; at piece at one with nature
fingernails screech upon blackboard sending shivers down Garton’s spine
An Osprey’s call sends jagged sound-waves streaking across agree sky
Strikes me; no mercy; mobile phone’s ring forced back; sends it to shore
Angles cry upon Loch canvas mourning the intrusion upon tranquillity
Their droplets strike harps, play a sad tune; ballerinas dance
Nobody is aloud to see that which nature had proffered for me
A sadness creeps towards me; slowly; regretfully I turn to leave
Loch spirits see the regret in me; a sudden breeze ripples water
Waters mirrored surface returned; pine trees wave forgiveness
I am at peace; once again; free from expectation; time for me
©Phil Golding 05/06
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