I love the sky
like a giant eye
winking daily
at the sun,
now open wide
and pressed hard
like a diver's mind
against the magic-lantern peep-hole,
drinking in
the dizzy hurtling
rushing spin
of our interstellar ride,
drinking, drinking in
till it's driven blue and bright and blind &mdash
I love the sky.
I love the wind
that moves beneath the sky,
that strokes trees
and streaks out
the bright white cloud
on high, the same wind
that powers the thunder-dark nimbus,
heavy with heat
and summer rain,
like a fledgling's beak
pokes and tugs
the clay of the soft world,
moulding the clay into grubs and berries,
moulding breath into song &mdash
I love the wind.
I love the earth
that lies beneath the wind,
the green peace
that stirs among the roosting trees
at evening,
the canopy of leaves
that spreads like a mother's wings
against the owl-heavy dark
and the giant's cold nightmare stare
at star-shot infinity,
and the sweet smell of leaf-mould
and the sound of scampering feet below,
and the flock awakening million silver-tongued,
and first flight in the eye of the rising sun&mdash
I love the earth.
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