Verses from the hills

A song from the green

Here, the fog blows clouds into the workers eyes
Blows rain in shafts into the pink blossoms and the
Thorns, fragile leaves, flowers
From the timber and mud.

You stand to see the sun pierce
Through the white grey blanket
And the steel roof is drilled with drops.
Fury,
But from its edges a soft dripping of calm drops
And the tired trees bend away from the onset.
Thats not thunder, thats paper, leaves, branches,
Wind in the endless fenceposts
That mark the rows of green on black.

Bare timber!
Bare timber!
Stray cow! Roaming about the roller coaster
Green; markings on a mountain,
One behind the other
Side by side, sculped by the invisible wind.

The fire heart

I am the earthy heart of these embers
Dripping red into the fury of flames;
I am these dying fibers falling quiet
Into the rage of life;
I was there, in the endless winter rains
Soaking into deep green and putrid rot;
I flew with the bees, the birds, drinking pollen
And the many fiery rays of summer struck me into fibers
Of the many, the sometimes fallen
Tree fog sillouettes on the moving shroud.

Down here in the burn I am changing;
Down here in the burn I am heating up
But falling apart, my earthy heart gives
Its life to the licking colours, single lines,
Disintegration, layer by layer, my body melts
Into the inferno; my soul
Grows, jumping up, reaching for the man made paradise,
But no, Alas!
I have walked, I have stayed, only bending
Long enough to know my flames are futile
They won´t reach the cerulean stratosphere to rain
Down again - ...or maybe...

Smokey wings rise, a shadow of red
Up until you won´t see me anymore,
Up to "invisible heights"
Meet with the birds, speak with the
Earthly things that never touch down here
- so remnants may rain down in the end
But we won´t know, just life