Tag: nature
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Pulling Back the Sheet
It started as a scribble in my yearbook and ended with an apology, of sorts: I wish I’d been more, held your hand when it mattered and even when it didn’t. Ink lasts longer than schoolyard dreams, wilted before their bloom. Notes we wrote lend breath to ghosts, long after pens fall still. In this…
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Days
Sometimes she’s wildfire, burning through the night; some days she’s a winter storm, ice and fury unleashed. Sometimes she’s a shadow, neither fully here or really there; some days she’s untamable, wild as rolling seas. Sometimes I hold her close, as the world starts coming undone; some days we fit together and I feel that…
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En Passant
It wasn’t a spectacular leaf: rather drab, too long from tree. Yet, the life it clutched in its five trembling points turned my strides into steps into stasis. I watched as it danced, sucking more from a gust than nearby leaves better suited to flying. It spiraled away to a lazuline sky while I remained…
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The Long Road
I drink all day and then strike out along that winding road, where shadows flit by leafy bough and twilight waits for no-one; where failing light births fickle fiends who writhe and tempt the absent mind. In deepen wood where mildew clings to night’s cool breath, a parting kiss for seasons long since flown. Ryan…
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Dragonflies & Raindrops
It starts with a single languid drop, beating a hardpan drum. Cicadas warble a scorched-earth vibrato, rushing skyward, the long-dry undone. Rusty tears trickle their bullnose percussion on verandah iron and brass. While the red dusts of torment yawn and drink deeply, thirsty as fire-kissed grass. My hard-bitten mongrels, in Waratah shade, flick ears laid…
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Dying Light
From my porch I watch thunderheads battering high noon into bruised twilight. I see you climb from under eaves, awakened by a pressure change. As the storm inhales you leap and spin, leap and spin your web — knowing your time to build is fleeting. Ryan Stone
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Drought Break
The first splash, a drum crash on hardpan. Tin roof hiss, a slow kiss that grows into rushing percussion. New voices rise, warbles and sighs, from beneath the shelter of tree ferns– a chorus begins, magpie trills and woodwind, as sound to the outback returns. Ryan Stone Another bite at dVerse quadrille #33 – Sound…
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Like Grass
I’ll bend, you know. Each time you kick or stomp me underfoot. Though sustenance is rare as winter sun, I’ll thrive, you know and grow to cover every corner of the meadow where you lie. I’ll rise, you know. Rise and rise– I’ll rise. Ryan Stone
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