Rainforest Weeping
Posted: Mon Feb 14, 2011 9:29 am
RAINFOREST WEEPING.
The ancient rainforest is weeping, her canopy is stripped - she lays bare,
as rivulets flow down her hillsides, it seems she has more tears to share.
The white Cockatoos all screech loudly, and fly overhead – a great throng;
as a lone Cassowary comes seeking for food, they continue their song.
They have seen their green treetops denuded, they’ve been tossed and thrown on the storm.
Feathered bodies now litter the forest. Cast aside, tiny bodies still warm.
The surf boils and roils on the white sand of the long stretch of tropical beach
though the shore line is littered with palm trees, and wreckage where waters can’t reach.
The mist covered mountains are watching the fields of destruction below.
They shyly reveal ‘neath their grey gauzy veils, their scars from the turbulent blow.
Tall palms once lush green, now are shattered. Trunks twisted in abject despair
and apart from the noise of the parrots – it’s the silence of which we’re aware.
Neath a moon riding high in the heavens, they have weathered a storm – at their cost
and now what was written in starlight, is revealed – and they weep at the loss.
Every line on each palm and liana, each embrace of the strangler fig,
shredded fronds from the beautiful fox tails and cycads show this storm was big.
The Torres Strait pigeons are flocking, creamy feathers bright in the sunlight.
But the fruits they are seeking are lacking, stolen by a thief overnight.
A helmeted head now emerges, vivid blue and with wattles bright red.
Six brown, white striped, little ones all tag along – Cassowaries still need to be fed.
A sucker and sow and a boar with white tusks break out from the rainforest tangle.
They’ll have a field day, on the small carcase feast –for some there’s always a good angle.
Nature will recover, her scars she will heal, it’s business as usual all round.
She’ll regrow, vegetate, start to recuperate - for resilience the Mothers renowned.
Maureen Clifford © 02/11
The ancient rainforest is weeping, her canopy is stripped - she lays bare,
as rivulets flow down her hillsides, it seems she has more tears to share.
The white Cockatoos all screech loudly, and fly overhead – a great throng;
as a lone Cassowary comes seeking for food, they continue their song.
They have seen their green treetops denuded, they’ve been tossed and thrown on the storm.
Feathered bodies now litter the forest. Cast aside, tiny bodies still warm.
The surf boils and roils on the white sand of the long stretch of tropical beach
though the shore line is littered with palm trees, and wreckage where waters can’t reach.
The mist covered mountains are watching the fields of destruction below.
They shyly reveal ‘neath their grey gauzy veils, their scars from the turbulent blow.
Tall palms once lush green, now are shattered. Trunks twisted in abject despair
and apart from the noise of the parrots – it’s the silence of which we’re aware.
Neath a moon riding high in the heavens, they have weathered a storm – at their cost
and now what was written in starlight, is revealed – and they weep at the loss.
Every line on each palm and liana, each embrace of the strangler fig,
shredded fronds from the beautiful fox tails and cycads show this storm was big.
The Torres Strait pigeons are flocking, creamy feathers bright in the sunlight.
But the fruits they are seeking are lacking, stolen by a thief overnight.
A helmeted head now emerges, vivid blue and with wattles bright red.
Six brown, white striped, little ones all tag along – Cassowaries still need to be fed.
A sucker and sow and a boar with white tusks break out from the rainforest tangle.
They’ll have a field day, on the small carcase feast –for some there’s always a good angle.
Nature will recover, her scars she will heal, it’s business as usual all round.
She’ll regrow, vegetate, start to recuperate - for resilience the Mothers renowned.
Maureen Clifford © 02/11
and then Nev said I showed not told so I guess maybe it is - thank you both
