YELLOW MOON

YELLOW MOON

Half-lidded eye of slumber,

Far-spying on the dream,

Late, silence-rising world,

The yellow-rising moon

Now silhouettes a single,

Broad, distant skyline tree.

From misty, midnight east,

It ventures on the vastness,

Where stars in hazy number

Are summer-patterned on the sky.

What beauty's stolen by the eye:

What artistry of wide creation

Our casual vision takes for free.

What brush could brave

This scene's perfection?

This subtle luminosity?

Mysterious and deep is sleep...

But ah!

What miracle it is

To see.

THIS WINTER SKY

THIS WINTER SKY

This winter sky's half-gray with cloud-

The midday air still cool. Small rain

Lies scattered on the leaves of grasses

And magpies stalk through damp, green fields.

A crow calls into air-wide spaces

And distant is the slow reply

And cows graze on a far-off hill
And seem to seeing ant-like small.

Now drizzle rides upon light wind

And washes detail from the tree-dense skyline

And brings to sight a winter vision-

Where things far-off are misty-dim.

We watch and time is passing still:

A pathway to a cloud-bound view,

Where detail vanishes in mist

And all we sense... we hope is true.

AS SOME POOR SINGLE SAILOR

AS SOME POOR SINGLE SAILOR

As some poor single sailor left adrift

Upon the widths of vast and chartless sea

Despairs of ever finding rescue's gift,

So when he is discovered and set free

He cannot quite believe good fortune's sight;

It's so for me: within a general strife

Of pathless ways you came like rescue's light

Within the common darkness of my life

And left me still incredulous that I

Could find such sudden fortune on my way-

Like one who's beckoned by bright jewels that lie

There at his dusty feet some sun-drenched day.

So like some single sailor left adrift,

I wonder at love's wonder-living gift.

LISTENING

LISTENING

Listening reveals.

To hear the rustling clusters

of leaves that whisper to

soft brushing of a breeze,

the gurgling of a stream

that splashes onward down

a narrow bed of stones,

the far, full booming of

a metal bell's deep tone,

the crackle and the hissing

of fierce flames as they fly,

consuming dry wood, dancing towards the sky;

this is to sense

a fragment of

the speechless word

of all vast being of the world.

Listening is a sharing.

To hear bird melody

sound forth at dawn,

the drowsy purring of a dreaming cat,

or cows deep-lowing in the fields;

the watchful dog's excited bark,

the cry of gull, above foamed wave-tops riding wind,

a far owl hooting through

the insect murmur of the night;

this is to sense

the feelings of the wordless,

souls of the creatures of creation.

Listening is communing.

To hear a child's

first mouthings,

first mimicking of human speech

with all its meaning-sounding forms;

or listen to

a long, rich life reflected in quiet words;

to hear bright anger's fire,

or warming love,

all self's experience

in sound and sense,

a being speaking;

this is to learn

to listen to the human:

to love

word-weavers of the earth.

Listening is deepening.

To open to

the soundless stars,

to self's own stillness,

to that deep quietness behind

creation's song:

this is to listen

through silence,

to embrace

awareness of

the depths of Being.

Summer's Ending

SUMMER'S ENDING

Georgica, NSW Late February

The summer's ending yet bright day

burns with late-season heat.

The sky is gathering some western cloud

foretelling storm at night, perhaps.

The day is hot yet when gold sun

rose through white mist that drifted up

from lying on the hills,

while dew drops on the grass

were bright as stars...

I felt a trace of chill, a touch

reminding me of autumn yet to come

and winter following.

The summer's ending now

and yet it must be so,

as seasons cycle and we walk the track,

the track of time as change must come.

Yet in the circle of the seasons

are rhythms that repeat and give

a sureness to the months and years-

the small red cedar trees

are full and fine with leaves

but by the winter light

their green will all be shed

so buds of spring can bring new finery.

Yet with our sad and silly dream that we

have conquered and control the world

with industries and cities like

infection ever-spreading on the face of earth,

we push the cycle out of shape.

The summer of our pride is ending...

and this I fear- how we shall pay for this.

End of Hot Day

END OF HOT DAY

Midsummer Georgica NSW

End of hot day. Fierce sun has vanished now.

Yet still bright twilight lights west-lying cloud-

Forms spreading yellow-greying in pale vastness.

Are they the heralds of new rain in darkness?

A final butterfly of day flits by,

Above the seed-tipped grasses, summer-high.

Black crows flap towards the heights of night-safe trees,

Soft-rustling topmost leaves in slightest breeze.

Now eastern hills are briefly tinged with gold-

The Midas touch of day's last-passing role.

Above them crescent moon is growing bright

In sky that's fading towards the rise of night.

The heat is falling and the world's inclined

To pass into the shadow side of time

Where stars will show the darker, cooling hours,

Bring some retreat from blaze of solar power.

And in the cooling darkening of sight,

I ponder in the passing to the night

How storms and rains have saved the summer here

From drought's despair and greater fire-fear.

How long will fortune's blessing last? How long?

I hear of terror, fire-born, beyond

The scant horizon of my turning days-

Devouring, roaring flames, the deadly blaze.

I hear of fiercer storms with fury from

The trapping of the energy from sun;

As change, without a harbour or a haven,

Becomes our sadness like a war from heaven.

The Moonman- Folk Tale Play from Siberia

THE MOONMAN

Tamia a Yupik (Siberian Eskimo) girl

Mitan a magic reindeer

The Moonman

Scene snowy plain. Later a choom.

ENTER STORYTELLER

STORYTELLER

Many, many dark winters ago,

on far north plains of ice and snow

there lived a herdsman, in the vast, white wilds,

who had a daughter, his dearest child:

Tamia, Trustworthy-Is-Her-Word.

In summer she'd take the reindeer herd

each day to graze wherever lichen grew.

But when cold winds of winter blew,

swept in by the spinning of the year,

she would be found

far south of summer's ground,

looking for food and shelter for the deer.

EXIT STORYTELLER

ENTER TAMIA AND HER DEER, MITAN

TAMIA

How magically bright shines the moon tonight.

MITAN

Yes, brightly it shines with its ghostly, white light;

for now is the time when, as wise men do say,

the moonman leaves his home, far in the silent sky,

and travels on a moonbeam sleigh

to wander over the slumbering earth.

O woe to anyone whom he passes by.

TAMIA

Why is that, Mitan?

MITAN

When the moonman comes to call

better not be there at all!

For when he comes visiting

he spirits you away with him,

back to his white home in the sky.

MITAN POINTS TO THE SKY WITH A STRAIGHT LEG

But look, look there, the moonman's flying by!

He's flying so silently through the deep sky;

he's flying to earth from his home up on high!

MITAN LOOKS AROUND

Come- quickly hide, hide will you!

TAMIA

But where shall I hide? What shall I do?

MITAN

Just trust me and you'll soon see.

MITAN RAKES A HOLE IN THE SNOW WITH HIS HOOF

MITAN

I'll rake a hole here in new-fallen snow.

I'll make a hole and hide you down below.

Come, quickly bundle into this hole,

and so be hidden: body and soul.

TAMIA HIDES IN THE HOLE

THE MOONMAN ENTERS

MOONMAN

I have flown from the darkened sky,

I have flown from the icelight on high,

I've voyaged from the distant moon.

On the silent rays of light,

through the calm deeps of night,

I have ridden to earth's sleeping gloom.

THE MOONMAN TURNS TO MITAN

Where is she, earthly deer:

that girl that I saw here

when, from the far, far sky,

she first caught my eye?

MITAN

Good evening, moonman.

Isn't it a pleasant night?

MOONMAN

Where is the girl I caught within my sight?

MITAN

Don't ask me!

I can't see

any girl

anywhere.

Are you sure, are you clear,

you've found the right place?

MOONMAN

Yes. Yes. I saw her as I gazed from space.

She's here somewhere, I know.

MITAN

O is that so?

How do you know?

MOONMAN

Now listen here, brown deer.

I know she's here.

MITAN

There's no-one here.

It was your own bright light,

glancing off the snow-cold white,

that dazzled your eye

while you sat in the sky.

MOONMAN

H'mmm. Maybe.

But if you're lying to me

then I'll take you instead

to fly before my sled.

THE MOONMAN EXITS

TAMIA RE-APPEARS FROM UNDER THE SNOW

TAMIA

What can we do? O, what can we?

So that the moonman won't catch me?

MITAN AND TAMIA ENTER THE CHOOM

TAMIA

Here in our tent, here in our room,

here in our home, here in our choom.

now here, perhaps, here we can hide,

here I can hide away inside.

TAMIA LOOKS AROUND

There's nowhere here to hide,

Oh, now what shall we do?

MITAN

I'll change you into something new

so that the moonman won't find you.

What will it be? A block of ice, let's say?

TAMIA

No. I might melt away.

MITAN

How about a block of granite?

TAMIA

No, it's too hard- I'd hate it.

MITAN

Then-how about a lamp? What do you say?

TAMIA

Yes- yes!

He might not see me for his own bright ray.

MITAN

By the powers that rule the sight,

by the weaving of the light,

spread a mist of sense confusion,

weave us now a great illusion.

MITAN STAMPS THREE TIMES.

TAMIA CHANGES INTO A LAMP.

THE MOONMAN ENTERS.

MOONMAN

This time, without a doubt,

I'll find her out.

Now where is she?

MITAN

Now don't ask me.

I cannot see

Anyone else around here.

MOONMAN

Don't try to fool me, long-nosed deer.

I know she's here.

MITAN

But can't you understand, moon-clown,

there's no-one else around?

MOONMAN

I just don't understand.

I'm sure she's near to hand.

MITAN

Perhaps then she's shrunk flat,

And now lies hidden under the mat.

THE MOONMAN LIFTS THE MAT, IN SLOW MOTION, RIGHT OFF THE GROUND AND LOOKS AT THE GROUND VERY CAREFULLY AND THEN LOOKS AT THE UNDERSIDE OF THE MAT. FINDING NOTHING, HE THROWS THE MAT BACK IN A HEAP.

MOONMAN

No, she's not under that!

MITAN

Perhaps then she's spread tall

and now is hidden against that wall.

MITAN POINTS A HOOF. THE MOONMAN GOES OVER TO THE WALL AND INSPECTS IT CAREFULLY

MOON MAN

No, she's not THERE at all.

THE MOONMAN SCRATCHES HIS HEAD

MITAN

Perhaps she rose up high

and flew into the sky.

MITAN DEMONSTRATES WITH A GESTURE. THE MOONMAN GOES OUTSIDE AND SCANS THE SKY

MOONMAN

No. no- she's not flying by.

WHILE HE IS OUTSIDE, TAMIA RE-APPEARS

TAMIA

Mitan. Mitan, has he gone back?

Has he gone off on his sky track?

MITAN

No. Quickly change back into a lamp.

Three times I'll stamp my magic stamp!

MITAN STAMPS HIS HOOF THREE TIMES.

TAMIA CHANGES BACK INTO A LAMP.

MEANWHILE MOONMAN HAS GLANCED BACK AND SEEN HER.

HE RE-ENTERS THE CHOOM.

MOONMAN

Where's she gone? Where's she gone?

MITAN POINTS A HOOF AT HIS HEAD

MITAN

Is there anything wrong?

MOONMAN

That girl? Where is she now?

MITAN

What's up with you, friend, anyhow?

Perhaps you're blinded by the snowy whiteness?

Your own shine, bouncing off its brightness,

seems spinning strange visions before your eyes.

MOONMAN

Don't try to trick me with such lies!

I know which way the wild goose flies!

And so I know, I know it's clear,

it's perfectly clear that she is here,

Come on. come on, now, where is she?

MITAN

Beg pardon. are you talking to me?

MOONMAN

I know she's near. I know she's near.

This time she won't escape me here.

MITAN

Your mind is quite confused, I fear.

Why do you search for people who aren't here?

Why can't you see there's no-one to be seen?

MOONMAN

What do you mean?

MITAN

Well then, where is she now?

Is she behind you, mad mooncow?

THE MOONMAN SWINGS AROUND

MITAN

Or beneath your feet instead?

THE MOONMAN CAREFULLY LIFTS UP ONE FOOT AND LOOKS UNDER IT. THEN HE PEERS AT HIS SOLE. HE PUTS THAT FOOT DOWN CAREFULLY AND DOES THE SAME WITH THE OTHER

MITAN

Or over your head?

THE MOONMAN LOOKS UP CAREFULLY, TURNING AROUND IN A SMALL CIRCLE AS HE DOES SO

MITAN

She's not above, as you perceive.

Perhaps, instead, she's crept up your left sleeve?

THE MOONMAN SHAKES HIS ARM AND PEERS UP HIS SLEEVE

MITAN

Perhaps the right one after that?

THE MOONMAN DOES THE SAME FOR HIS RIGHT SLEEVE

MITAN

Well, maybe she's sitting up under your cap?

THE MOONMAN TAKES OFF HIS CAP, FEELS HIS HEAD WITH HIS HAND AND SEARCHES INSIDE THE CAP, THEN PUTS IT BACK ON HIS HEAD, LOOKING PUZZLED

MITAN

You see, there's no one here to find.

It's all just in your loony, moony mind.

MOONMAN

I know she's somewhere round about.

My light, my light will find her out.

I will not let her get away;

I'll find her with my white, white ray.

THE MOONMAN SWINGS AROUND WILDLY, HIS ARMS OUT, HIS FINGERS OUTSPREAD, AS IF RAYING LIGHT FROM HIS FINGERS. HE REVOLVES SEVERAL TIMES.

MOONMAN

Moonshine, moonshine from the sky,

gleam and glitter from on high;

moonlight, moonlight from the night,

shine and shimmer with white light;

brightly shine on all I see,

find her, bind her silently,

spy the hidden one for me!

MOONMAN DROPS HIS RAYING

MOONMAN

Well, after all she is not here. I know-

perhaps she hid beneath the snow.

This search is tiring me: I feel my ray

is slowly fading, fading right away.

THE MOONMAN STARTS TO GO OUTSIDE, SLOWLY, WITH GREAT WEARINESS. BUT HE DOES NOT NOTICE THE CRUMPLED DOORMAT AND SLIPS ON IT AND FALLS (SLOWLY, ALMOST LIKE A SLOW MOTION EFFECT)

TAMIA SLIPS THE LAMP AWAY AND RE-APPEARS. SHE TIES THE EXHAUSTED MOONMAN TO THE LAMP BOX

TAMIA

You won't take me away today!

MOONMAN

If you don't set me free then my light will all die.

I know how you're feeling. I deserve every curse

for trying to take you away to the sky.

But if you free me then I promise I'll never,

never come back to earth but stay up forever

far away in the sky. And I'll shine on the earth

and brighten the dark of the night with my light.

And I shall ever change my face; and my phase

shall be a clear sign of the passing of days,

a signpost in the turning year.

And I shall shine in the summertime,

when grass grows high and skies are clear,

and herds of deer graze peacefully.

And I shall warn of autumn storm,

when chill winds whip the leaves from trees

and dance the swirls of yellow and red.

And I'll get old with winter's cold,

as first, wild-howling snows are sped

in blasts that whirl across the frozen waste.

And I shall smile on spring's new cheer,

on the thaw, on the first, starry snowdrop's white face,

and welcome the season of the mating of deer.

TAMIA

Then I'll set you free;

but promise me

you'll never return to the earth,

not even as near as the most distant bird.

MOONMAN

You have my word.

TAMIA STARTS UNTYING THE MOONMAN. LIGHTS FADE.

THE STORYTELLER COMES FOWARD

STORYTELLER

And the moonman never came back again.

And if you look up to the sky, why then

you'll see he's stayed that way to this very day.