Raindrops, by Ryan aged 10 years old.
A raindrop hangs and
Sunlight beams bend through
With unchained clarity like
Perhaps minute rainbows too.
That dew drop holds tight
As if by unseen glue
To the very tip of the vividly green leaf
On which it happened to fall unto.
Morning had broken, in that they shared
In a quick but daring duel with gravity,
The raindrop falls.
Within that crystal-like teardrop, does a world turn by?
Moments to me, but it’s a lifetime we shared,
And when that droplet falls
Spiraling in crisp morning air
It covers the darkened soil,
With more water than I knew.
THE RIVER BEYOND
River flowing far along
diamond light shining on
It’s a great sight
to see Otters splashing,
A feeling of pleasure.
A stork stands greatly
thinking, “I’m the king!”.
a fish is swimming
and its scales catch
the sun’s rays.
The stork sees a flash
with a diamond ripple.
Down the hatch,
into a darkness world.
Man, through binoculars, can see
turtles slowly plodding
and seeming to stop the worlds’ time
to see where he says, “slow”.
Slimy newts swim swiftly along
with the gigantic toad and frog.
Green, yellow, red and brown
and many more colours.
SPLASH! goes the toad.
Diamond light, silk river
and the velvet sky.
A Kingfisher skims the water
and veers away from a tree
Then dives to wash his feathers.
It jabs a fish,
then dashes up to the tree
and throws it in his mouth.
An Eagle larks to her mate
and soars over to him.
They nudge their young
to keep them safe.
They see a rodent
so they swoop down.
The male forces it to jump
and while the rodent is in the air
the female catches its prey
with its enormous talons.
They go back to their nest
and rip the rodent open
and feed their young.
Ryan Lewis March 23rd 1994.
A Snowflake Wander
“Do you see him now?”
He asked in his lowest held voice in decades.
A little bit of silence followed, than a light hold on his arm,
“He’s cold and thrashing…
Wait! No. Excited maybe. Let’s get a little closer.”
They had to go this way to visit the lake,
And winter’s cold air only laid a crisp reminder of its presence
Rather than hold a trip to its beauty back.
They slowly stuck their worn boots, one by one, into the untouched snow,
And as the light broke on the hard cover,
It lent its help on top
For wriggly toed feet to reach that pillow case landing below.
He glanced over, and past the long silver wired fence
To see the frost had; in its boredom or
Lament; covered the new bushes fingers
All Straggly and frail. Still reaching upward out of the cap-
They looked like they were reaching for something special,
Then he remembered! The sun was actually back!
As it flashed on the snow to blind his eyes,
It brought him present
And he could feel the gentle reminder of his wife.
Warm breath was lightly teasing the back of his neck,
As they travelled along and to help the tiring cross
He started wading in straight trenches to make the path behind.
Each wade felt like walking in mafia cement shoes,
But their journey went somewhat straight, and forward.
“Here he is. Boy he’s trashing hard,” she saw.
He nodded slowly; as something was clearly not right with the little dear
As he increased his pace and reach him faster.
The doe knew they were there but had not ran,
And their intrigues to this… off the path doe…
Had made them want to find out what had brought him here.
He knew that would may had been something
That would have brought him to trouble in the past,
Yet here, it was more of myth than anything else.
They stopped as close as they dared,
On the same side as their fur clad young walker.
He took a glove off- who knows why you would there-
Some old habit of being foolish when the blood is up,
She grabbed his hand and put it back without the need of speaking.
“I think he’s trapped, he moves so violent but with three legs in circles.
His other is hidden there,” as he pointed down
With the same hand he had uncovered before…warmer now.
A light whimper came from her,
He looked and her eyes which were almond-wide as she looked back into him,
“He has caught it on loose wire… see how it travels down from the post.”
He did, and the icy wind replied by blowing through her hair
With airy ease but worldly strength,
Yet only in serving to light up the intrigue held there.
“What can we do?
She was concerned, and now, so was he.
It had seemed just a doe playing in the woods near their home,
Yet this was obviously duress, something they become accustomed to now,
And immediately understood.
He had the thought of others who may have continued past to call someone first,
Yet they hadn’t done these kinds of walks doing that
For any of the troubles out here at the property.
“If I move fast- I could pull him free.
It looks more wrangled from his fight than too constricting and tight.
He can not see what we plan,
So we just need to make sure I don’t
Disappear in all this drifting white!”
It was coming down like a snowflakes from a Christmas tree and
Although I could tell she had grinned more for that,
It just joined with her wrinkled-up worry lines.
He could pin him down too,
But knew that a even a worried doe kick, could make another tragedy.
Or more likely, his ankle will twist and be out here
Without another who could physically carry his hefty form that far back,
And it would be made worse by the numbing cold.
They both knew that.
He leant a covered hand on one of the poles that was dug in,
Planted by the next neighbor a few years back when they
Had bought up their new home beside them.
They had passed by many times since they had bought up
After making it through a hurricane of life
And yet he hadn’t noticed their zig zag form before.
They were young wood but he was holding
Knobs, spurns and circles, no straight lines here.
He leant his head on his arm and smelled old wood
Like the neighbor knew about age and memory – or old varnish smells.
To the contrary of course as this was oak, so young and strong,
No, it was aged from those seasonal lessons,
Of snow drenched times and turns
As winters heave has lessons of care, so unavoidably so.
He snapped out of his mind wandering, again,
Which each time would remind him of childhood.
Focusing on another heart pounding thrash
From the little doe, he could see those little lungs were now gasping harder.
He squeezed out his own tight breath forgetting about the icy cold,
That really needed to give him no reminders of its presence to his head,
But of course it did,
And despite that it still gave omnipresence
Which no meditation could ever have done so well.
He heard his wife lean back, to brace for a fishing hole catch.
As he removed the broken snow
From beneath the wires hidden at the posts trench,
With the protection of his leathered glove.
And indeed, it had wrapped – but not cut – the does left hoof.
He immediately grabbed it right then, pulling hard and with purpose;
As twisting and moving never helped a problem;
Only in silly films and ‘this guy I knew’ stories.
‘Like a new cut stuck on the damn bandage- quick- for this one’, he thought.
And as quick as that, he was on his back,
Still awake but without a hoof in hand- looking a little dizzy-
To see the doe on all fours, just standing in front of him,
Calmer than any winters carve could have made him.
Their eyes locked in for a moment, or maybe two,
Each set an amazing blue sent twinkling by the sun’s distant radiance.
He bolted too quickly for some other nostalgic feeling to arise,
And went off and off into blurs of fingered bushes,
Still frostily waving hello-goodbyes.
“You did it!” She exclaimed, “Well done my love.”
And in her genuine happiness he adored so much, he replied,
“Did you see his eyes? I saw myself, in younger throws.
That familiar mindless thrashing against the coldness of ice cooled steel.
Oh how trust can come in a moment like that! I will never know.”
And so they set off from their knees to start the walk back,
As they decided to end their walk there. They would never top that-
Even with the well-loved lake they loved so dear,
They chatted all the way back,
The intrigue of those matching blue eyes-
“What a free… and beautiful animal he was.”
In that thought, she stopped to enjoy its purity.
So he stopped to join her there, and all he could think was how good it had been
When he had first learned how to get the wire off his own feet.