3 Erosions

A song cycle

3 Erosions

I hear the dewdrops speak to me

Of distant fields and far off mysteries ...

The grain of sand can speak, as can

The leaves, and each so differently

But all their various songs and voices

Put together are in reality

A single song.

- Federico Garcia Lorca, The Butterfly's Evil Spell

Sand-Speak

Restless are we, like the grains of sand cast out to shore

Restless are we, until we're pounded by water once more

Oh, gravity does important things

Oh, its weight keeps our sanity in

Leaf-Speak

Ours is a green, green world

Where the wind rustles through us playfully

Where the dewdrops slip down the same tracks

And drip, drip, drip, drip, drip from our tips

Meandering, leisurely; measuredly in drought

And hastened by the rain

Dewdrop-Speak

Hurry, my rivulet blossoms

Hurry, my glimmering rounds

Hurry, my sisters and brothers

Our mother is calling us down

Down the quivering green-veined leaves

Down the cracks in the trunk

Or in freefall

To the spongy moss, to the earthy soil

Then gliding, sliding, rolling down the hill

Hurry, my rivulet blossoms

Hurry, my glimmering rounds

Hurry, my sisters and brothers

Our mother is calling us down

Finding quiet caverns in the pebbles

Carving ant-tunnels in the sand

Crying with joy when we taste the salt

Of our mother's waving hands

Hurry, my rivulet blossoms

Hurry, my glimmering rounds

Hurry, my sisters and brothers

Our mother is calling us down

Oh, gravity does important things

It leads us home

It shakes us out

It keeps our sanity in

nature poetry
Violet P. Davies
Violet P. Davies
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Violet P. Davies

Words make me feel fulfilled occasionally.

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