SPRING by Barrie Purnell

SPRING by Barrie Purnell

The pale light diffuses through the clouded window

Signaling the start of yet another new day,

Not just an ordinary day,

But the first day of spring.

The mornings’ irritations fade when I look out to see

The world shining fresh and new after the rain.

New life is returning

After winter’s vandalism.

Pussy Willow catkins show like tiny fingers;

A few carmine red shoots are already visible

On the pruned rose stems,

Prompting a memory of

The breathtaking blooms of last summer’s roses;

Leading actors in nature’s endless resurrection,

But now the stems stand stark

Against the dark damp earth.

 

The rising sun throws dancing shadows of leaves

Across the ivy clad railway sleeper wall.

The broader shadows of

Clouds glide across the path.

A pale, lemon yellow, primrose pushes through

Its’ winter ravaged, worn out rosette of leaves,

And lifts its’ pretty head

Towards the tepid sun.

Raindrops, like a shower of pearls, hang from branches

Under which scattered troupes of febrile insects dance.

An insolent noisy robin

Challenges every intruder,

While a tiny, ever mistrusting, Wren retreats

Into the safety of its hidden priest hole home.

Somewhere in the windless

Morning a Blackbird sings.

 

The vibrant saffron yellow cups of crocuses

Are painted onto the the lawn’s bright green canvas.

Moss has occupied spaces

Between the sandstone slabs.

The fresh green shoots of the Iris give little

Indication of their future azure blue beauty;

The exclamation marks

Of the flower world.

I love the spring, when everything looks brand new,

But I feel sadness too that it is so ephemeral.

So are our lives

Within eternity.

We can’t hold on to beauty, it is bound to fade.

We should enjoy our springtime while it lasts,

All too soon it’s over, and

Autumn leaves cover the ground.

 

I am reaping the harvest of all the deeds I’ve sown;

Both kind and hurtful have had their consequence.

Unlike the flowers that fade,

Returning good as new each year,

There is no rebirth for this creature I have grown.

My finality assured by inescapable decay.

I envy the innocence

Of the reborn flowers.

The springtime of my years is now long since gone.

I give little thought to all those dog-eared yesterdays.

I remember little of

The spring except its beauty.

I am living through the winter of my life.

No flowers will grieve for me when I am gone,

They will bloom again

To please a strangers eyes.

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Born From Nought? (Almighty Hand) By Chris South

Inspired by music Prelude – L’Apres Midi d’un Faune by Debussy.

Born From Nought?
(Almighty Hand)

By Chris South
Born from nought this world of dreams
When all the heavens heaved a sigh?
No mortal ear beheld the screams
That birthed the earth, the sea, the sky!
How then be it men ponder this
And from their musings understand
The empty womb, that black abyss
Of time and space spewed forth the land?
That from its sulphurous choking bowel
Sprang life in bountiful supply
Each plant and beast, each fish and fowl
Then last not least came man, then I?
Now farther take such wisdom hence
Pray dwell on this; foretell the end of time
What justice shall our world dispense
Befitting of all human crime
What answer holds this universe
That born from nought gives substance still?
Entire existence seems perverse
If back into the void we spill
How then be it men ponder more
And musing fail to understand?
Not born from nought, creations core
Was wrought by an Almighty Hand!

(If you click this link it will open in a new tab.L’Apres Midi d’un Faune You may then wish to come back to this tab to listen while you re-read Chris’s powerful piece)