The Way The Wind

A striking combination of poems and photography.

flat out on the grass
coming down as deep as dreams –
the seeds of freedom

 the lake concealing
a million lives, another world
so the mind dreams

afternoon so slow
it feels like the sun has stopped
clouds just hanging

orb of the moon hung
in a sky of palest blue
pink tinge on the hills

ducks glide serene
on the smooth expanse of grey
horizon lost to sky

the lake’s eternal eye
the mountains’ clouded presence
of the centuries

screech from the bushes
a pheasant’s hoarse vocals –
clearing rusty pipes

cormorants flapping
at the clank of construction shovels
the pond shivers

ducks in a flurry
as if running on water
flapping off phantoms

striding past puddles
crows converse across the rain
the playground empty

reeds as still as time
the sun a pale reflection
a fisherman casts

contented stillness
legs as thin as the falling rain
grey heron standing

sharing the garden
with bulbuls*, spiders, wasps, ants
ownership a myth

towering into blue
graceful sway of bamboo
partnering the wind

the way the wind
in waves of light travels through
the spider’s web

wind in the web
rippling a ladder of light –
fragile vanishing

butterfly alights
on my skin for an instant –
weightless transmission

shadows of leaves
move in the wind on the wall –
the language of air

the wind a knife blade
points of silver pierce the sky
the heart song frozen

sudden swoop and cry
hiyodori* chasing spring
in an arc of joy

all the air alive
a breeze, a bird alights
the May leaves quiver

priest sweeps the shrine
in a cliff where water falls
in a line of white

struck by the monk’s rod
from the brass bowl sound quivers
shimmering the air

meditation’s cave –
the dark that sets these ships afloat
flames on the water

Note
*hiyodori (Jap.): brown-eared bulbul, a large greyish songbird, given to exuberant swooping and high-pitched chirping that is said to sound like “hi hi heeyo heeyo”. Hence the Japanese name “hiyodori”, or hiyo bird.

******************

For previous contributions by James Woodham, please see his striking combination of poems and photography here. Or here.  Or here. Or here. Or here. Or here.

Share: