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A Reflection from Ukraine


From cushioned seat...

I watch the battle-fought treasure of rich dark soils rush by,

Endless acres of life sustaining grains stretching up to thank

The sun as she stoops and spreads her bounty

Freeing the spirit of growth.


In the distance first glint of gold.


Dotted here and there...

The softly rounded outline of one, maybe two, horned cows

lazily breaks horizon.

Sleek pelts swirling with colours of chocolate.

Slow dedicated farmer guides from the rear with wave of kerchief from sweaty brow,


Until they reach thigh deep grass on which beasts feast.


Birds swoop from cobalt skies....

Beaks open wide to capture life sustaining nourishment, hovering...

Over slow rivers

lugubriously tunneling their way into dark velvet soil.

Feeding willows who weep soft tears of green on top of the cool clear water,

Lined with new spears of bulrushes forming picket fence

For speckled trout swimming noiselessly,


Tracing ancient paths through dappled depths.


Here...

An avenue of Monet's pines struts through fields,

Haughtily nodding to groups of gossiping crabapple,

Until forcefully stopped by road block of chestnut.

There...

Linden trees stroll distractedly behind

Doffing crowns of butter blooms

Filling air with honeyed fragrance and leaving dusty confetti in their wake.


Speeding past...


Seemingly empty cottages clad in corrugated steel and crumbling concrete,

Stumbling next to the asphalt;

Rubbing shoulders with noble patterns of brick.

Guarded by colourful arrows of iris and boughs which bend to breaking under an abundance of scarlet cherries

As far as the eye can see nature speaks life.


But...

In the shadows

Daisies cluster with McCrae's poppies in the safety of the ditches

Whispering news to be carried by frail butterflies to those who wait.


In the distance....


The shimmer of golden domes hints at prayers raised in hope and faith.

Sung liturgies stretch across the hours

Watched over by golden icons in a field of blue

Measured only by the pendulum of sweet incense rising in supplication.

Scarved women cross trembling chests through spikes of pain

Approaching fresh mounds of coffee coloured soil

Embracing flowers that will be watered by tears alone.


Life must defy the storm clouds mounting at the border - God let it be so.















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