[These are a few lines I wrote a little while back about the divide between culture and nature.]
NATURE AND THE BREAKFAST TABLE IN AN AUSTRALIAN GARDEN
I’m let free from my mooring in the night.
Stretch into the morning without a fight.
Step down the hall.
But then, sick to my stomach of flat, human crafted surfaces,
Tired of synthetic tables and silent curses.
I walk out into my garden.
No, I go out the back door, into a green then.
In my right hand I carry an old handsaw,
Used by my grandfather and disused a lot more.
I walk towards an offending trunk and leaves,
Non-native, invasive, bringer of luxuriant thieves.
Place the teeth to the bark,
Place my right foot to the ground among the twigs.
Then I move and find I’m dynamic among the verdure,
Far from that breakfast table.
A cat watches me from the distant grass,
His eyes glisten and
My spirit glistens.