Mark Scrivener

Poetry Poems Original Verse

Monday, February 08, 2016



21st November, 2015 Georgica NSW

These are last days of spring
but summer's now-
from blue-white sky
unceasing heat pours down,
surrounding all the grass and trees,
still green by ground of recent rain,
now feeling solar power.

So summer time will stretch the hours
that reach towards forty by degrees
and now the shade beneath the small
red cedar trees seems dark
and other trees hide wallabies
in stillness and in shadow.

And all the brightness narrows eyes;
and all the world seems bleached with light.

Some know we have to grow, decrying
all limits of reality...
but I have heard this day
of heated forests, world-wide, dying.

A southern wind arises now
sways tall gum trees, makes many leaves
endow air flow with rustling sound.

Its coolness promises a passing
of such vast heat for some relief
and I am glad to wait for change
predicted so
as weather-wise belief.

Yet in my heart there shines no gladness
in looking towards a world to be
warmed by waste gas beyond its order-

and I'm not glad to wait for change
to that new world grown wild and strange.

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