The Flood

-Ante Deluvian : Post Plebian-

Martin Morse (2019)

Goat – melting into the brackish muck.

The Haunted House looming in the

background—

benign, dealt with; reconciled;

unthreatening.

The past; the foundation for our present.

 

Chopping wood.

Watching ladies chopping wood.

Showing them tricks we learn in Guy

School.

 

Building the fire High. Higher and higher.

Dancing the night away,

Howling to the shadows—

 

It’s alive out there! Cawing and crashing

We are small though, and irrelevant.

No matter – we are all mixed up, in this

milieux together.

 

So, into the Bushy Palaces we retired,

Full with ambrosia and leftovers-

Listening to the Beasts..

Wombats muzzling around in the

moonlight

The Lady of the Lake is the custodian here,

built these nests.

The spirits are strong here—

Their presence is easy, like a Flood.

The Milky Way is thick and marvellous.

 

The Flood overcame me that night.

I had been hunting and waiting, and

praying for it,

but I didn’t know what I would find.

Felt good to let something else take over

Let all my fears be drowned.

 

“Join the circle,” they all say;

“Let us in”..

She will show you the way.

 

Enjoying the quiet stars,

I feel awake and alive.

Watching as the night fades out.

 

I should get a few winks, because we

made big plans for tmro—

 

Plans for tmro:

Wrangling fuzzy bunny giraffes-

And who knows what can come of that….!

July 13, 2019
Poems