In foreign land of towering pines
And hammocks, mangrove-torn
A dark-filled night reluctantly
Bequeaths a pale dawn
...
Last night I dreamt of rolling waves,
Of summer sun and turquoise seas,
Of tapered fields and bracing winds,
Of gentle hills and autumn trees.
...
As time begins to take its toll
Upon the wearied day
So starts the silent spectacle
Of glittering, lighted play.
...
In cloudless sky and shadeless plain,
In dusty waste and yellow sea –
Where burning heat untempered reigns;
Where wilderness itself runs free.
...
On starry nights the mind is like
To step on board a vision;
To climb the enigmatic steps –
The liquid path to heaven;
...
S)
The Osprey
In foreign land of towering pines
And hammocks, mangrove-torn
A dark-filled night reluctantly
Bequeaths a pale dawn
Upon one battered cypress perched,
Amidst the morning haze,
Bright eyes stare out from part-cocked head
With piscicultural gaze.
Intently focussed on the brook,
That glides beneath the tree
Alive to every shadow’s sound
Yet never truly free.
For choicelessly these eyes are drawn,
As waters break below
And like a flash a head snaps back
And rippled muscles flow.
Within the slightest moment’s breath,
Two mighty wings released,
Two claws full-stretched, two legs reach out
The sinews, strained, unleashed.
The beaten air the only sound,
As time itself stands still
And, tracer-like, on charted course
The osprey meets its kill.
With consummate and practiced ease
The painless end begins
The single deadly blow is dealt
As sharpened claws sink in.
Then up away into the dawn
And time resumes its course
Two final beats – then disappeared
Is this magnetic force.
The cypress perch and well-filled brook
As silent witness stay
And as they settle – calm again
The sun declares the day.
Wow, this is amazing poetry. Keep it up, you certainly have a gift.