Your Poetry Dot Com - Valley Clock.

Array ( [sid] => 166915 [catid] => 1 [aid] => mick [title] => Valley Clock. [time] => 2011-08-02 05:12:41 [hometext] => Went deep into a Forest last week. The different shades of light were amazing. Looking then from the other side of the hill I could see the shadow the trees cast over the landscape, This is a snapshot of a 30 minute life in that landscape. [bodytext] => The knitted trees of the forest pattern the skyline well.
A great swathe of dark shadow
That clings pugnaciously to the hillside.
And there below, where the valley, twists and turns
In a fever of escape,
A buzzard is devouring the loneliness,
His cat like cries clinging to the stillness, clinging to my mind,
Like the fragments of a well remembered dream.
And in a wild flower meadow, conducted by the breeze,
A band of crickets strike up and the delicate flowers come together
In an intimate dance of the wild.
At the edge of a redundant pond a frog croaks,
His lusty decibels speaking of freedom.
My heart ticks the valley clock
And the great swathe of the forest is rampant still. [comments] => 5 [counter] => 175 [topic] => 27 [informant] => cashfan1 [notes] => [ihome] => 0 [alanguage] => [acomm] => 0 [haspoll] => 0 [pollID] => 0 [score] => 0 [ratings] => 0 [editpoem] => 0 [associated] => [topicname] => NaturePoetry ) Your Poetry Dot Com - Valley Clock.

Valley Clock.
Date: Tuesday, 2nd August 2011 @ 05:12:41 AM AEST
Topic: Sad Poetry

Contributed By: cashfan1

The knitted trees of the forest pattern the skyline well.
A great swathe of dark shadow
That clings pugnaciously to the hillside.
And there below, where the valley, twists and turns
In a fever of escape,
A buzzard is devouring the loneliness,
His cat like cries clinging to the stillness, clinging to my mind,
Like the fragments of a well remembered dream.
And in a wild flower meadow, conducted by the breeze,
A band of crickets strike up and the delicate flowers come together
In an intimate dance of the wild.
At the edge of a redundant pond a frog croaks,
His lusty decibels speaking of freedom.
My heart ticks the valley clock
And the great swathe of the forest is rampant still.

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