Summer Song

I am

the blackbird perched out loud,

serenading to wind and

fog;

I am the voice

between branches,

whisper from the breeze

evening skjump *

I am the crooner of hillsides,

the long billed one in

solstice grass…

I am

the invisible song,

the one that slashes through

silence – finds meaningfulness on

fence posts, offers feathers to

drum and Earth to advertise

love and presence in

hope to be heard by the sky.

And watch your spirit

chirp and thrive, as

time tick-tocks to

Earth’s cycle;

sparkling

sparrow in stereo,

the one that chirps out of nowhere…

I am daylight beyond belief,

the one that clads night

azure blue –

grey or

plain white according to

wandering fog.

I am what they call da Simmer Dim.

© NH 2020.

The Fog

Open the door.

Into the ether of it all,

the world of white and questions marks,

where

we watch you engulf our world,

the sea,

the hill, fences and all, where

life stands still just for a while, and

let skylarks, rain gjus wander,

call for the sake of life and all…

True uncertainty of it all.

All gone quiet,

sky gods,

dragon’s breath through the now, as

I watch you

glide towards hame,

soul-less,

silent, sleek and so sly…

The sacred duty to resist,

you turn the sniper in disguise –

you, poltergeist without a name, eyes or a

face,

what Father Sky never explained,

you breathe slowly without a why –

sigh,

silent cry on barb

wire, where

water mirrors emptiness.

Into

the ether of it all,

we wait for the next big wiping,

strong breeze, near-gale to

clean the sky,

unhook our hills, bays and

meadows,

the great illusion of

it all.

© NH 2020.