Undecided
Posted: Tue Jun 23, 2015 3:58 pm
UNDECIDED … Maureen Clifford © The Scribbly Bark Poet
Undecided it fluttered first this way, then that
sometimes pointing to east and then west.
A dark silhouette on a black metal pole -
undecided. Now which way is best?
The storm winds were wailing weirdly through the pines
a pewter sky threatened above,
with clouds dark and brooding like a lovers frown
in the wild rampant moments of love.
At sunrise the storm clouds abated and left
and that black metal bird now stood still,
the quiet sound of silence pervaded the land
and Sol coyly peeped over a hill.
Strewn over the paddocks were leaves, bark and branches,
one Ironbark succumbed to the blow
but ewes calmly grazed with their young lambs at foot
on the river flats way down below.
And two pelicans, blown off course by the storm
shared some fluttering feathers in pique.
They seemed out of place here so far from the coast
but they added a little mystique.
No hurry to rush back their stance seemed to say
we will rest here awhile by the creek.
We’re not lost, not at all, we know the river flows
to the sea – so we might stay a week.
The river is turgid, the waters are brown
its flow is decidedly rapid,
we’re quite undecided as to where to go
we’re cautious – but don’t think us vapid.
And they stayed, preening feathers, right on the creek bank
as waters rose up then receded .
Then just like the waters one day they were gone,
decision made, journey unimpeded.
Undecided it fluttered first this way, then that
sometimes pointing to east and then west.
A dark silhouette on a black metal pole -
undecided. Now which way is best?
The storm winds were wailing weirdly through the pines
a pewter sky threatened above,
with clouds dark and brooding like a lovers frown
in the wild rampant moments of love.
At sunrise the storm clouds abated and left
and that black metal bird now stood still,
the quiet sound of silence pervaded the land
and Sol coyly peeped over a hill.
Strewn over the paddocks were leaves, bark and branches,
one Ironbark succumbed to the blow
but ewes calmly grazed with their young lambs at foot
on the river flats way down below.
And two pelicans, blown off course by the storm
shared some fluttering feathers in pique.
They seemed out of place here so far from the coast
but they added a little mystique.
No hurry to rush back their stance seemed to say
we will rest here awhile by the creek.
We’re not lost, not at all, we know the river flows
to the sea – so we might stay a week.
The river is turgid, the waters are brown
its flow is decidedly rapid,
we’re quite undecided as to where to go
we’re cautious – but don’t think us vapid.
And they stayed, preening feathers, right on the creek bank
as waters rose up then receded .
Then just like the waters one day they were gone,
decision made, journey unimpeded.
