Literary Vegan

Sicut erat in princípio, et nunc, et semper, I am anointed by God in heaven As Queen of England, Daughter of Isabella And I will not surrender Caro autem infirma I hold on to the truth As you hold on to my jewels You touch whatever you please Yet I will forgive you Henry For you and God I bow my head, But I will never yield. Copyright LJ 2020

I watched a water rat Eat out of curled up leaves  At the bank of a stream. They were drifting Like paper boats At the end of a race, But the little rat Pulled each one close And peered inside eagerly to see What it held. We look for magic everywhere, While every day Nature transforms  Dried, fallen leaves Into floating dinner plates, Herself.  Copyright LJ 2020

  Autumn arrived. But instead of a woven blanket of acorns and dandelions That the world prepared to be tucked into, The ground gave way to the stirring Sun, covered with spices And the beings crawled out blinking. They marked the falling of leaves as floating movement, Saw the shaking trees of the season as awakening - Nature was not slowing for silence and snow, It was being noticed - It was finally being known.       Copyright LJ 2020.

( For Jane ) My carousel love ended. The music stopped. And in the rain - I clung on to the sculptured horse Suddenly with no course Of my own. In the dark, the kissing lights Of other fairground rides Just beginning Suddenly seemed brighter, Hurting my eyes. I slid off my seat and walked past them slowly, With my head down. By the exit someone was throwing candyfloss Onto the ground To be eaten by raindrops - Sadness in a sweeter form.  It surprised me -  Amongst these amusements, I had not expected  To find another broken heart  Like my own. 

I am the skyline I can breathe in white clouds While my skin brushes seaweed I am the level of the birds Facing feathered faces With our legs underwater I swim through nature's history The trees will remember me As they do all the creatures Learning how to Bridge the elements Under their boughs. Copyright LJ 2020

I am reading myths in the meadow In the last of the September sun, When the tree's shadow crawls Across the clearing And hovers at my feet. I rise to go, book closed. But now is the time Of the swallow - I stand still And water rats and robins appear So I stay to hear The animal stories of dusk Told by the earth itself. Copyright LJ 2020