One leaf falls from a tree
and then another follows,
and another, and another
until that one leaf
is entirely forgotten,
even by the tree itself.
Words from the Jagged Edge of Truth
One leaf falls from a tree
and then another follows,
and another, and another
until that one leaf
is entirely forgotten,
even by the tree itself.
The State stands on the front steps,
moves through the front door
to the front room…and I wonder
when the frog will leap from
the pot of water that is
beginning to boil.
We made our way around
the edge of the harbour,
above the milky waters
that nestled into the rocks
and the shore, that lay
at rest in the breathless,
noon-day air.
There are treasures in the second-hand shop
that are hidden to the unseeing eye, to the
heart that has no connection to the
emotion of the times in which the
the treasure hunter has lived.
At the end of the St James Walkway,
the white mountains stood upside down
in the polished surface of the lake,
their winter reflection a post card
reminder for the traveller whose
journey passed this way.
A whisper of grey mist
hangs low over the hillside
and the sky is alight with
the last rays of the sun
dancing on the remnants
of the rain clouds; the
respectful chatter of the
birds ushers the evening
to the Valley.
A mask for your face,
a star for your chest,
how low will we lie down
and where does the ship
come to rest?