Richard Baker

Interpretations of our Natural World Through Images and Literature



Birds & Bikes

The wick gears of spring sound up in song,
Wash smooth and true over weary bones,
Perpetual natter glides and gifts the spirit
Each shift and kick to lift the visit,
To join feathers in the firmament,
Potent and impermanent,
Dead air compressed to transient glory.

Then bare on back under pines time soaks,
Into finest fog that remains for the day.


Afternoon Storm and Benevolent Branches

Distant squeals, a deep crush over green,
Like listing metal under vacant oceans,
A wet wind whips, dry tarmac into life,
Big burly mood now muddies into motion.

Thick air churns like stones in a mixer,
But bitter boiling brood just tickles,
The proud spring hedgerows and wet mossy walls,
That encase sprite bells under deepening canopies,
Of smooth old beech trunks, calm and tall
As I fold and fall fetal into damp forest floor

Great Douk Cave

I have been in a bit of a creative void for a number of years, but recently, rather suddenly, I have emerged from the tundra, throwing myself into the outdoors, into running, writing, reading, into learning and into life, with a passion and conviction I wish to transfer into several creative projects through this blog.

When we challenge ourselves and test our resilience and resolve I feel we gain the richest rewards.

This was a short poem inspired from my first experience caving on a crisp late winter evening

To crawl upon the scars of time,
Where wet cathedrals long to wait,
Midst ancient grinds and fractured lime,
Organs lull mortal minds sedate,
In cascade corridors, not yours or mine,
At alters, prone, no mark of man.

Sinews humbled between hallowed stone,
To breath again at the floor of eternal skies,
Orion laughs, Betelgeuse bellows,
Our effete tongue against the cosmos cries,
This restless edying rock sublime,
Was never yours nor mine.

More from Wastwater 11/01/2016

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