Mango Walk

nothing of moment
butterfly in the garden
summer arriving

bent under sunshine
i watch the busy workers
toiling in this heat

accepting payment
the fruits they ripen slowly
promise of pleasure

leaves shine in the sun
slow wind is almost not there
it is just too hot

ninetyone degrees
the number does not seem real
it is unblinking

we long for cool rain
the grass slowly turning brown
seems a grave warning

name it and it forms
spring light and shadow give shape
to newer monsters

again and again
clouds above take on new forms
almost by magic

the youth who watches
imagines many places
in the most fierce hope

so long the journey
agony of bitter time
but sweet this climax

a certain angle
a quality of sunlight
this is the true spring

light tells us so much
it uncovers deep secrets
without an effort

my mind spins quickly
so many words to conquer
so little time left

nothing too complex
the rich greens of the gully
small seem my worries

not to wait but work
that is the only way of it
duty summons us

outside the blue sky
tells us another story
joy in the sunlight

this is the turning
between spring and summer might
human the power

no little doings
make the earth turn and sun rise
powerful forces

outside the deep night
trees holding silent darkness
the moon behind clouds

we wonder at this
seeking stars to guide our steps
dimly the lights glow

warm is this darkness
summer's promise a sure bet
evoking laughter

words once written go
they vanish into nothing
their weight not golden

we gild the lily
still its loveliness appears
calming the loud day

what we know we know
vanishes into nothing
the world is so large

the rose of summer
casts odours to the breezes
soothing the hot soul

a moment's wisdom
it emerges from nothing
cycles of action

not understanding
future means we will botch it
the past counts far less

it will never go
but we cannot visit there
tomorrow will come

we cannot change that
even through being absent
we are not central

the words will alter
if we don't change we will die
so we need to dance

to each new measure
even if our feet are slow
still we must tread them

time leaves wounds open
if the healer does not come
there is no magic

rival ideas will
always challenge our wisdom
life will demand it

accept the moment
what comes next won't be evil
unless we wish it

making the journey
requires nothing but our hope
springtime is breezy

naming the makers
travelling towards the day
buds on the branches

only the wisest
recall when we knew magic
regretting the loss

when did we allow
the world to become boring
empty of power

what makes us vapid
no longer willing to see
the light beyond light

hidden in shadow
there are no more monsters now
only the dustballs

naming each second
time will pass no faster here
but we will feel it

birds announcing spring
their flight shows a rapid grace
now moving northward

the flow of water
calming our wildest thinking
is a benison