Your’e Bored, Child?
Look at the birds. Learn to listen to their chatter, Their flitting, twittering flights for no Discernible purpose; the clatter And the cawing of that black crow, The furtive, dry-leaved peck and scrape Of blackbirds blundering in a bush Seeking worms and beetles; the shape Of the wagtail’s wing; the shove and push Of tits among the bacon rinds; The eerie, invisible knock, Knock knock as a woodpecker finds A bark grub; the wheeling starling flock. Look at the birds. Look at the earth. Scoop up a handful in your palm. Not for nothing have men plundered, Murdered, fought and wrought great harm Among their kind — whole empires sundered — Just to own it, or to believe They did. Crumble it. What’s it worth? Ask a farmer stooping to sheave A field of sun ripe wheat. The Earth! The land! Listen, listen to me! The blood of kings lies in your hand, What came before— and what shall be. Think on it. Seek to understand. Look at the earth. Look at the sky. An emptiness? The blue-walled womb Of all that is, of all that ever Grazed or grew or swam — and met its doom — Beneath our tyrant sun. Forever Heaving, blowing, sleeting, snowing, Raining, resting — bringing with the night Its velvet, eerie canvas, glowing With long dead messengers of light. And yet, who looks— with wit to see? Should you take long enough to chart This wheel of time and mystery Life’s miracle will swamp your heart. Look at the sky. You’re bored, child?
Poem Published in the following books: Tales from The Woods