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Night at Palona Brook Cave
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We shall rest here, upon
the time pressed sand
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As children in the lap of
age
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And let our talk go gently
to the sleeping land
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As speakers on a stage
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Soften their words to fit
the quiet scene;
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Land in the grip of night
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Her fettered trees dark
limbed, and lean
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As twisted steel against
the light
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Drawn from the fire within
this sheltered place:
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And sounding near
ourselves,
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Like sweeping rain against
a window space,
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The brook complains and
courts the shelves
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of weeping rock along the
water way;
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The fiery ash burns white
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And flakes the final spark
that would delay
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The closing fingers of the
night.
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Bernard W Peach
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“Into
The Blue”
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September 1949
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- The Eye of the Eagle
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- Asleep in the eye of an eagle,
- In the eye of the dreaming adrift
- With the kestrel, the tern and the seagull
- Where the waters fall over the cliff;
- A blanket of breezes to cover me,
- My quilt was the skin of the sky,
- The sun and the wind rippled over me
- Asleep in the eagle’s eye.
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- And whilst I was peacefully sleeping
- Above the precipitious height,
- The bird, like a pinnacle leaping,
- With wings of a sphinx in flight,
- Swept, like a mountain in motion,
- Soaring so far and so high
- To sail over island and ocean
- As soundly I slept in its eye.
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- Its beak was as sharp as a sabre
- Bent down in the way of a prow
- As it sailed without any labour
- With a buffeting wind on its brow;
- Its wings stretched out like a coastline
- As waves rolled over the deep,
- And spiralling over the cliff-line
- I never once stirred from my sleep.
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- With a rumble my eyrie was shaken
- When my pilot set down with a shock;
- The animal blinked and it wakened
- As waves battered into the rock.
- Now I think of great wings on the skyline
- Where the waters leap into the sea,
- Embraced by the wind and the sunshine,
- The ocean, the eagle and me.
Colin Gibson
originally from "A Wild Blue Wander",
2000
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