Make your own free website on Tripod.com
Batsword   |   Contents   |   Briefs   |   Contact and Publications   |   Haiga   |   Home Sweet Home   |   Those Good Old School Days   |   Lights in Dry Nights   |   Planetary Passion   |   Fiddling With Their Blarney   |   Thistles Bloom Again   |   You: A Big Word In Poetry   |   How Sacred Is Sacred?   |   Perspectives   |   RIP Jerry   |   The End of Conservatism   |   Why Do You Need To Kill?   |   Triggered Thoughts   |   Post Santa Therapy   |   Naughty Mufti   |   Clashes of Culture   |   Bin Laden In Retirement   |   Remembering Katrina   |   Reproduction Rights Pantoum   |   Cyber Assault   |   For The Women of South Dakota   |   What's Up Doc?   |   December Downunder   |   Some Say   |   The Beat Goes On...   |   Sensitive Ears   |   Poem For Kate   |   Waiting For White Smoke   |   Tsunami   |   Violated Votes   |   A Safer and More Secure World   |   Viewpoints   |     Tranquillity Bay   |   Bloodlines and Body   |   After Thanksgiving Comes Christmas   |   Energy of Feng   |   There Is Nothing Lovelier   |   Number Sixty-Eight   |   AudioPoems   |   Sunset At The Lighthouse   |   Free Again   |   Growth Regrowth Regeneration   |   Snow-walking   |   The Day That Elvis Died   |   Dancing Diamonds on Ruffled Eider Feathers   |   After The Attack   |   Blues Addiction   |   Finding Balance   |   Rocky Dreams   |   Zero Is Not Meaningless   |   we talk and we walk together   |   New Cells   |   At Year's End   |   A Sonnet For My Botox Baby   |   Life Is Short   |   VPG   |   In The Cool of The Night   |   Multicultural Insurrection   |   Seventh Heaven   |   Flashlights Of Shock and Awe   |   18 ways to a successful relationship   |   Barbie

For Kate

Meditation on Mountain Top, by
your cabin at sunset. Before me:
sprawling green in the equipoise
of March equinox, and the gangly
joey hanging out of pouch - a sort of  
Cirque du Soleil act in acrobatic
nibblings on jewelled grass. Where
flocks of sulphur-crested cockatoos are
frolicking high in trees, squawking, screeching,
claim their rights to food. They gather in
their troops. And the barren chooks have left
the shadowed orchard rows, robotically
return to roosts to remain safe, secure
from sly and hungry snakes.
Kookaburras too, are calling
long and loud, noisily telling
every living thing around
that this sound means
the land belongs to them.
Long-awaited moisture
with the sun's closing rays
bring life to earth in soft
sprinkling tears from above.
Now, I look for a rainbow over
yonder Cathedral Rock and the
Giant Bamboos groan, clatter,
shocking Peace Doves to the skies.


~~~





©barbaraataylormarch2005