Man Made Reserve
In the beginning, there was the machine
and the machine mined the limestone.
When it had scraped the gravel pits lean,
until there was nothing but dust,
it ceased its anger.
On the second day, after the machine had rest,
Man said, let there be water.
And water filled the scooped out ponds
until the land was fixed so it looked like lakes.
On the third day, Man said, let there be carp
and the common carp entered the water,
splattered the wet as it see-sawed and sloshed,
the carp it did multiply amongst the crayfish,
otter and perch.
On the fourth day, the hibiscus
and dandelions reclaimed the earth,
they drank heartily, thrived like worker bees in hives.
On this day, the blue butterflies paraded the land,
by day they fluttered,
at night they perched on the underside of leaves.
On the fifth and sixth days,
the grasshoppers, willow tits and tree sparrows came,
so did the insects of every species,
they flooded the land in a hurry,
cradled the wetlands in their wake.
By the seventh day, the reserve was complete,
full of mallards and warblers, dragonflies and more.
Man said, for now you can all stay.
Nature looked at him, shook its head
and said, ahh Men!
The Sermon Of Nature
Blessed are the ants like knights in armour
for they devour the eggs of troublesome insects.
Blessed be the worm, who thank the ants for their battle,
for they toil in the soil, watch as the frogs croak.
Blessed are the frogs, sometimes mistaken for toads,
for without them the mosquitos would invade the land.
Blessed are the mosquitos that swarm the ponds
for they remind us that blood can be drawn, and is often shed.
Blessed are the ponds and all the life that lay within
for they are the wetlands that offer the insects a home.
Psalm 151 Panya Banjoko’s Version (PBV)
151 The water vole is a rodent; Who shall question?
2 She makes her nest on the border: plops in the still water.
3 Yea, though she burrows on the brink of the bank, leaves muddy
tracks in view, she loves the murky depths.
4 She keeps her home clean; marks her territory with her latrine.
5 Though her robe be shiny, sometimes brown and sometimes regal
black she is still the prey for heron, stoat and eagle.
6 Her time may be short upon the land, five months brief, yet still
she replenishes her stock quite freely.
7 Surely the water vole is worthy of praise: as she leaves a v-shaped
wake in her trail.
We feed and we clean all for the queen
waiting to lay the eggs.
We stomp on the flowers for hours and hours
make pollen that sticks to our legs.
When the work’s done
there’s still not much fun
as we stand, for days, on guard.
A thousand of us, never a fuss
the life of a drone ain’t as hard.
The Green Chair
Let me be your place to rest
as you search this land for solace
your trusty seat in a world of despair
your burden I will gladly share.
Is only half.
Are we not all fragile shells
some easier to crack than others,
but do we not all crack
in the end.
When looking over the horizon...
how short is our time to breathe
and how long it takes for us to forget.