Don’t forgot the countryside,
With your computer, career and chores.
It goes on in spite of you,
With schemes greater, and more intricate, than yours.
Below, the sunlit dappled earth,
Patterns your willing feet.
Above, the green transparency of leaves,
Stirs the scent of Meadowsweet.
Butterbur, wild garlic and yellow water lily,
All weigh the syrup air,
And call your longing heart to join,
The river’s sinuous love affair.
Hear the fish’s footprint plop,
And see the silver sound waves roll,
Across the sky of mystery deep, that lids,
The alien’s clammy fleshy soul.
Your dazzled glance at darting larks,
That cleave the endless blue,
Make an aerodynamic lie,
Of all you ever thought was true.
– John Coldwell