Perspective Stand
There are those that pass,
unseeing.
They walk blindly,
seeing only
what they hope to gain.
And for them, emptiness
like a dog on leash
will seldom stray.
Though still many
pass and see the pool.
The pool’s edges
are sparsely lined with damp
moss-covered rocks,
that share the bank with fern
and a profusion
of vine hosting trees.
Small native birds
sing within their rough embrace
dig for grubs among their roots,
which are partly hidden by fern
and decomposing leaves.
An idle gossiper,
the noisy kaka,
looks on watchfully.
While the fantail
flutters aimlessly
among the trees.
But the pigeon, so noble
and colourfully plumaged; does not see.
The brightly coloured berries
are all the fruits; he seeks or needs.
Far above the bellbird sings,
sweet songster
your notes are like
the mellow chimes of tiny bells.
A tui, the parson-bird, takes up the call
and sings a solo,
complemented by the whispering wind
that stirs the leaves.
A stunning sight
to gaze upon.
Many who chance to pass
[...] Read more
poem by Terence George Craddock
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