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Still Mountain Air

In natural beauty...

Time taken to walk
fresh unspoilt earth
is far...

From rush hour now.
Honking traffic reality
experienced endured now.

Pristine
melting snows
should wash out

pollution pressures
city carves
into urban mind.

How hoof prints of deer
made my heart dance.
A sense of pain felt loss
where deer have been.
Mere minutes before.
Where crossed my tracks.
Sense wonder expectation
in still mountain air.

Chance find antler,
of spiker mature stag.
Nature stores wonder.
Gone without glimpse
land feels empty
alone at loss
chill frozen
without their soulful grace.
Nature is strong
but she amputation loses,
before gun tearing tracks
of demolition bulldozer.

Treasures from nature
come unexpectedly,
to grace our sight.
A youth’s crazed potshot
robs future generations.
Nature's loss
is extinction loss to eternity.
Severe is loss to all.

For man’s
heart hangs empty
as empty
as coyote’s
crying emptiness.
Expression found

lonesome lurk erotic.
Still night
baying to ghost
cold haloed moon.
Mute Mona Lisa
witched reply.

Humanity steeled like iron
against itself all creation.
Without sweet wind
bird flight
night cry
wild flower graced glades.

Humanity finds
bitter struggle hard
opening caked eyes
to see with insight
attunement glorification
values renewed.

To tolerate preserve
real pristine wealth.
In age rearing glass towers
to be clinically sealed within.

Museum cases
enclosing our kind.
Sterile exhibits, isolated
anthropological units,
displaying displayed
within possessions.

In age rearing glass towers
to be hygienically sealed within.
After we are freed from traffic
work bound home bound maze.
Freed to return to rest restlessly awhile.

Within our own known corner.
This comforting corner
of our familiar life consuming
private rent owned cage.
Set within the sphere, the sociology,
our actions efforts generated.

Even majestic dignified wonder
created within wild animals.
Is lost disinherited unseen.
Within concrete prison zoo cage.

In alienated cities
carbon polluted lungs
must breathe
what little beauty.
Eye can drink.
Heart can find.
Soul can sustain.
Must breathe it in.

Among unholy
standing stones
in chequered
city blocks.
Are established
few greenbelts.

Surviving jaded
sanctuaries
must be.
Searched for hunted
preserved
all the more strongly.

Copyright © Terence George Craddock
Written in April 1989 on the 17.4.1989.

poem by Terence George Craddock
Added by Poetry Lover
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