Almost imperceptible signs of man's impudence
and cost, as I wait for the bus and in silence
take up in my hand a stone cold blackbird's
egg that once harboured within its shell
mornings of song and delight, and like in
Edward Thomas's poem, where men and
women went to war, their absence marked
by the effort taken to plough, now here
the abandoned nest, the lonely mallard
duckling, give testimony to the unceasing
War against the planet and Nature waged
by us, but who pays any notice except
maybe the guilty, MEA CULPA
I'm really enjoying your poetry Stephen! I like how you take the egg as a focus point and move outward with your poetic associations . . .
ReplyDeleteLethe