'There's something new in the river,'
The fish said as it swam.
'It's got no scales, no fins and no gills,
And ignores the impassable dam.'
'There's something new in the trees.'
I heard a bloated thrush sing.
'It's got no beak, no claws, and no feathers,
And not even the ghost of a wing.'
......
Away, melancholy,
Away with it, let it go.
Are not the trees green,
The earth as green?
Does not the wind blow,
Fire leap and the rivers flow?
Away melancholy.
The ant is busy
......
'Does the blackened ruin, situated in the stony ground between Durraj and Mutathallam, which did not speak to me, when addressed, belong to the abode of Ummi Awfa?
'And is it her dwelling at the two stony meadows, seeming as though they were the renewed tattoo marks in the sinews of the wrist?
'The wild cows and the white deer are wandering about there, one herd behind the other, while their young are springing up from every lying-down place.
'I stood again near it, (the encampment of the tribe of Awfa,) after an absence of twenty years, and with some efforts, I know her abode again after thinking awhile.
'I recognized the three stones blackened by fire at the place where the kettle used to be placed at night, and the trench round the encampment, which had not burst, like the source of a pool.
......
What does the horse give you
That I cannot give you?
I watch you when you are alone,
When you ride into the field behind the dairy,
Your hands buried in the mare's
Dark mane.
Then I know what lies behind your silence:
Scorn, hatred of me, of marriage. Still,
......
The animals were imperfect,
long-tailed,
unfortunate in their heads.
Little by little they
put themselves together,
making themselves a landscape,
acquiring spots, grace, flight.
The cat,
only the cat
appeared complete and proud:
......
Once upon a time
There was a bear called Bear
And a dog called Doug
and a cat called Cat
And a sheep call Hugh
And a dolphin called Delphine
And an Ox call Leon
......
These are poems about animals and nature...
The Arrival of the Sea Lions
by Michael R. Burch
The sound
of hounds
resounds in the sound.
......
Forever prowling the slick rain stained streets, dazed and bathed by the moonlight and mother nature's embrace, you are graced by the wild wind as you shed your skin to the feral calls of your kin.
Continue reading
browsing green treetops
with a grace that comes from height ~
head up in the clouds
Estoy en el fondo
de un ojo de agua
sin mi luz celular.
Disuelto sin tiempo,
siento que soy el sueño
del animal sin identidad.
HuGóS | 26-12-2020 | 8:21 p.m.