threshold - another go at this
At woods' beginning, lapped in May's riches :
cobalt-violet periwinkles peep
through indigo hung croziers - bluebells'
throng - sleek-cool, sap-full stems easily snapped;
first campion lifts soft magenta head
above high-tide of white wild garlick, smell
invisible pungent slab in tall shade
of oak and sycamore leaves, fresh-unfurled;
song thrush, blackbirds, robin, finches, tits, all
call into being their kingdoms of song;
far-faint cuckoo! cuckoo! tickles hearing
and near, calm, confident woodpigeons coo
over uncurling vertebrae of ferns
and low, transparent yellow celandines;
elegant poppies, weighed down with beauty
of silk lemon petals, while further on
bumblebees browse comfrey's pale sulphur bells
beside bursts of gorse, shining in sun-warm.
Climb uphill path's kaleidoscope tunnel
towards sky-glitter slits in layered greens;
but, as a bruise swelling, wrong awareness -
bird song becomes broken, jagged alarms...
Deisel! Far from roads, air's always clear, here
under wheel tracks' solid dark-down snarl, through
gorse and ash saplings, slim-bone fragile, smashed;
months' long grasses' sheaf of growing breath, crushed
and at the sides, birch roots graze-knuckled. Raw
light glares hot where should hide dim under-trees
on wide sawn off stump, rings swelling outwards
as though time were a pond-dropped stone and years
weathered ripples in the trunk, or writing
through a stick of rock that reads "Life was here".
Every second builds a threshold of change -
Pass or Turn, go through, let trees stand, soak up
the harm we're doing. Our children's Future
grows, rooted in Now. Will we cut and run?