More From The Black Book
in a line
searching the fresh cut grasses
blackbirds walking and
cut grass
a line of blackbirds
sniffing
fresh hay
bees hum -
no shade for the trees and
fresh hay
shadeless trees
hum with bees
blackbird hops
wings awry -
family squabbles and
family squabbles
blackbird hops
wings awry
standing still
the wind
swirls around me
lavender clouds
at dusk
the horizon afire
sunset blackbirds
cut grasses
no sound of man and
sunset blackbirds
the tractor gone
no sound of man
cicadas complain
about the noisy children
in the meadow and
meadow children
the cicadas complain
noisily
through the branches
summer sky -
a white sun and
white sun
through the branches
a summer sky
the hawk
searches for prey
I watch too
as the day cools
across the cut fields
quail march and
the day cools
quail march
the cut fields
crying because
the grass does not bend
little cricket
the lake is rough
a blackberry path
leads home
somewhere lying
amidst the tall grasses -
my apple core and
tall grasses
my apple core
lost
flying past
the kingfishers call
left behind and
flying past
kingfishers call
trailing
waves toss
waves toss
waves toss
do not yearn so
for the cool autumn
butterfly
totara stand
together
holding up the sky and
totara stand
the summer sky
held
through tangled branches
a tui's call
weaves its way
its time come
the bee
seeks peace
weary with autumn
crimson and gold
leaves fall
sunset clouds
beaten gold and bronze
autumns glory
what colour
the Camelias
this first spring
oh
for a beautiful spider
to catch these flies
after the party
happiness forgotten
ballons shrink
finches sweep
the folds
of the valley
in the orchard
the wind taunts
the young trees
past the water tower
ducks fly
looking for water
atop the building
did that stone owl
blink at me?
the summer wind
drags fingers
through the leaves
the grass again
knee high
the clouds roll on
through the deck
dandelions
muscle in and
muscling in
through the deck
dandelions
All poetry (c) Steven Clarkson 2012-2014
searching the fresh cut grasses
blackbirds walking and
cut grass
a line of blackbirds
sniffing
fresh hay
bees hum -
no shade for the trees and
fresh hay
shadeless trees
hum with bees
blackbird hops
wings awry -
family squabbles and
family squabbles
blackbird hops
wings awry
standing still
the wind
swirls around me
lavender clouds
at dusk
the horizon afire
sunset blackbirds
cut grasses
no sound of man and
sunset blackbirds
the tractor gone
no sound of man
cicadas complain
about the noisy children
in the meadow and
meadow children
the cicadas complain
noisily
through the branches
summer sky -
a white sun and
white sun
through the branches
a summer sky
the hawk
searches for prey
I watch too
as the day cools
across the cut fields
quail march and
the day cools
quail march
the cut fields
crying because
the grass does not bend
little cricket
the lake is rough
a blackberry path
leads home
somewhere lying
amidst the tall grasses -
my apple core and
tall grasses
my apple core
lost
flying past
the kingfishers call
left behind and
flying past
kingfishers call
trailing
waves toss
waves toss
waves toss
do not yearn so
for the cool autumn
butterfly
totara stand
together
holding up the sky and
totara stand
the summer sky
held
through tangled branches
a tui's call
weaves its way
its time come
the bee
seeks peace
weary with autumn
crimson and gold
leaves fall
sunset clouds
beaten gold and bronze
autumns glory
what colour
the Camelias
this first spring
oh
for a beautiful spider
to catch these flies
after the party
happiness forgotten
ballons shrink
finches sweep
the folds
of the valley
in the orchard
the wind taunts
the young trees
past the water tower
ducks fly
looking for water
atop the building
did that stone owl
blink at me?
the summer wind
drags fingers
through the leaves
the grass again
knee high
the clouds roll on
through the deck
dandelions
muscle in and
muscling in
through the deck
dandelions
All poetry (c) Steven Clarkson 2012-2014