In The End


Our paths
Seem so solid,
Yet with the seasons
Even the most meagre
Stone strewn soil
Grows vast
With fertile grasses,
And weeds
Rampantly colonising.

Our roads
Are temporarily cuts
In the swathes
Of verdant magic,
That will one day
Draw closed
To absorb our footprints
In the luscious gloom beneath,
As if the soil
Was never once
Touched or trodden
Or even impacted
By the swish
And speed
Of our passing by.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015

Importance Of Swallows

What is more important

Than summer swallows,

Blue on the wing

Hot on the lifting air

Fulfilled by rising insects

Swarming on scents

And invisible particulates:

The blooms of the sky

The language written hieroglyph

And aerodynamic,

And perfectly attuned

To being –              – almost weightless?

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.

Bees Are Litmus To The Land

Bees are litmus to the land.
In their contentment
Is our milk
And sustenance,
For they are single minded
In nature’s plan
Of balance in the gathering:
Their Society
For the benefit of all within,
And kin and neighbours too
Are thus glad
For their best harvesting.

Bees are litmus.
They speak now
About man
On Earth.

© Ben Truesdale and distilledvoice, 2015.