Rabbitland

Words not given to speech.
Nor Summer to Fall;
Sour not given to sweet
And war not given to peace.
On the warm rock snakes coil.

Phrases out of reach,
Sour berries on the thorn
Strifetorn worldweary phrases
And bloodsucking leeches freely swim.

Held close to nature
the poet muse sings in my ear,

Rarely words wait
while vision is filled to the brim!
Resplendent with beaming beauty:
Mountain laurel’s blooming
As cool night descends Cambria County in mid-July.

Beauty seering the earth of my soul—
Of divinity this is the best bunch---
God may be so many more things
But these rocks and ants are enough---
Absorbed in love with each step.

Peace to sweeten the world
Made bitter with war and ‘rumors of war’
Game against global game
Let us refrain to rest in the forest cool…
To hear the woodpecker’s mighty hammer,
Water trickling cool beneath warming rocks,
Sunlight flickering the great pines in orange silken mist
Diamond spears of spectral rainbows.

On a shaded hill a council of trees and moss is set,
Opening the clearing.
Pure peace runs in rabbitland,
The chief rabbit feeds on blackberries at the periphery
Sour berries on the thorn…

War is not given to peace.
Only rock snakes on their crawl.