The Brook

Guardian Goddess

Winter King

The Brook

Jumping on the huge inner tube
affords me with a bird's eye view
of frog eyes under the brook's bank
glimpsed briefly on my every up.

tumbling water, cool, clear and clean,
single-stone bridge, floating green fronds,
bank sliding rocks, sand silt bottom,
side snagged twigs, sheltering tadpoles.

The pop of my bouncing rhythm,
the song of the water's gurgle:
both outreach the slimier sound
of snails sliding across the lawn.

tumbling water, cool, clear and clean,
single-stone bridge, floating green fronds,
bank sliding rocks, sand silt bottom,
side snagged twigs, sheltering tadpoles.

How can they be so inconsiderate today?
She sees the girl hopping on the giant tyre,
remembers her boy who would have enjoyed just that;
she sees the sun as yellow in the open sky,
remembers the almost black engulfing ocean;
she sees the brook flowing at a slow easy pace,
remembers the sea as it sucked her son away.

Copyright © 2009 Kaaren Whitney

Guardian Goddess

so connected to the Earth not even
the thread of a spider separates the two.
She, the perpetuator, sustainer
of dreams and desires made flesh, gives
to generation after generation
from her realm.

The web extends, includes all living things
from a flake of snow to fern's filigree,
from a single insect learning to fly
to a fish swimming with shimmering scales.
All come under the continuity
of her realm.

These are her children, carried, laboured, birthed
and suckled until they stand on their own,
start to forge their self-made mark, forgetting
not the route, the one who gave of her being,
her blood and tissue to give them passage
to their realm.

Copyright © 2009 Kaaren Whitney


Guardian Goddess cyanotype by J Tuckett

Winter King

Winter, with its longest breath of exhalation,
creeps under the hoar frost white-netting earthʼs surface,
a protective cover for the One-in-deep-sleep.

Activity reduced, stilled to shadow size
as Winter, both King and guest, demands a mute pause,
an almost solemn death, before the birth of Light.

Then, during year's darkest night, new hope is kindled.
With an embryonic breath of inhalation,
every living thing is inspired into being.

Copyright © 2009 Kaaren Whitney