On Walking in Rosebank by Day and by Night,She believes
in the freedom
to strike.
Lightning, silent and invisible
is lashing through the
waves of night,
She awaits her turn.
And the World does Turn.
These trees, silent sentinels,
are the ghosts of her future-past.
These precious flowers
show the Beauty
and Joy that once was and shall be.
There is brooding here, human transience,
remnants of volcanic violence,
Nature aflame and ablaze
but Man has made farms,
such Waste.
Man has imposed their dream
on the Dreaming
Such silliness.
Man has killed Soil
to grow cattle. Such Shame.
I shall wait,
‘cause the
Earth is Turning.
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