Cities and suburbs, real and imaginary.

Saturday, November 18, 2017

Sonnet #220

I have been asked to take a side - I take
no sides with thee - whatever sides there are
I will prefer to take the side of trees. We make
a world of men and say we are glory and the power
But our faith demands we seek the lowest beggars
clothe the naked, heal the sick, and feed the poor:

The forest is not naked, is not sick, and blooms forever
But we beggars take until remaining is no more

I think, in faith, we must investigate what makes us poor
For if the world abundant sings, and we in poverty -
It was the treatment of  the trees that give us all we are;

The trees are never crying, never tiring, have no snobbery
The trees and blessings of the trees go to elephants and insects
Accumulated mysteries in between make bounty's architects

Friday, November 10, 2017

Sonnet #219

Walk deep into the wilderness where you are
Be it desert plain or forest hills or swimming out to sea
Where there is no sound of the roads running cars
No sounds of the rumble and bustle of we
Listen where the leaves fall and you can hear it
Where the slightest breeze whispers music
And autumn paints pictures where tree roots sit
And birds recall a world where their cries acoustic
Are all that sounds like a song, are the brooks
there babbling? Are they singing a new song?
Are the waves upon the shore roaring, are you shook?
Do not confuse these noises with peace, that's wrong
Your only peace in that place is that you can go home
Once upon a time, that was the song of the ruins of Rome.