lights on a pylon on a tower.
Humanity like tiny mice
scurry beneath the feet of giants
vertiginous white Titans,
gleam coldly in diffuse grey light,
great trolls caught in an icy spell,
naked, immobile, dead and still.
A river flowing over rocks
would sound like chattering humans
dining beside this roaring road,
laughing with all our bright warm smiles
our shining eyes, as cars burn by,
faster than blooded predators.
A few trees mark the ancient place
where forests used to hide the land,
where once before, their flowing life
gave monkeys a green home.
Much black-red human blood was spilled
to build a city to Saint Paul,
Supplanting sacrificial mounds
with stony churches pointing to
a half-grasped heaven. Now this immensity
defying sky, crushing the earth.
Right now, we mean no harm,
only to have a happy time
We feel but do not think
We think, but do not know
We know, but do not act
The trees are eyeing up the towers,
patient.
Waiting.
Biding their time.
More like this
© Richard Lawson
5.5.2008
5.5.2008
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