I’ve a bit of a thing for ravines,
the many other land formations,
their wild colours,
the creatures that reflect them,
Incredible how poetry lends,
shares well together in the nature to write in such terms,
about aspects to phrasing relationships, etc.
All around, each line a waking instance,
in one fading, climbing challenges,
they keep cycling over,
love how each approach the writing.
Sometimes, rather than build a bridge to cross the ravine,
make for the upside,
the higher ground to flow in the path of its contours.
For once one has made it around the beginning of the unbridgeable.
It’s just one step.
Bridges will always come and go,
but the beginning,
an incredible place to start.
Something about land formations,
the colours of those that spread across,
their varied vast array of notions.
Sometimes high on the mountainsides,
where the ravines sweep swift from beneath ones feet.
Places told of where the fierce,
storms come to gather in,
their tangle kind of sky born love.
impossible to cross,
for swift the water none has ever seen.
Pummelling deep beneath the ravine,
to invade gravity in a distant,
a valley many leagues from on high.
Though born out of a chaos that is love,
the untidy state within the storm.
Lighting breaks with all its ferocity,
where nor even a Mountain Ash, its three hundred feet.
To might lose its faith in which built upon roots,
a shared nature with the ancient mountain and its rifts.
But strike it did, so loud the crack,
the shattering explosion.
For the Mountain Ash, it boiled within,
feeling no love for the storms,
the mountain quarrels.
As swift came the last drop,
the Mountain Ash lent forward,
shared in times past.
Thoughts of a future,
to make a bridge unto the ravine.
When after the storms swept pass,
so too did soon the days.
The Mountain Ash began to
reach skyward once more again,
til now, a living bridge,
a living life wild in heart, love in earth,
breathing both sides of the ravine.
Its chasm no trouble to growth,
a persistence entangle, spliced within its nature.