dawn is just moments away
blue grey grass blades still bent with dew
tears of a night dreamed softly and sadly
a hovering mist brushes the earth
a farewell caress before rising
a heron stands perfectly still
mute herald of coming change
at the edge of the field, there is a wood
light just touches the tops of the trees
snapping them into focus, into a present reality
while the misted meadow with heron sentinel
still lingers in the peace drenched space
between was and will be
despite everything we have been taught
an anvil does not whistle when it falls
one moment there is a heron
and the next, there is only an anvil
there is, however, plenty of warning
ground shaking, grinding and clanking sounds
plenty of time, if you are standing nearby,
to flee in terror and find a hiding place
where you can watch with racing heart
as the drill bit of the mighty mole machine
emerges through the grass
before the invasions happens
the death ray from the space satellite
does all good duty and transforms
the machine, and all of its masters,
in an instant, into a pile of rubble
suddenly quiet again as dawn finishes
the gentle mist now replaced
by the acrid fumes of ruin
a team of heroes arrives,
appears actually, apparently teleported
to this very spot by the mysterious
looking one whose face is somehow
always in shadow. they begin to sift
through the wreckage intently searching
and not noticing the invisible doors
open on the invisible teamjet of their
arch rivals who also have come to
claim, if possible, the secret power
hidden in the reactor core
of the remains of the mole machine
now there is enough noise
as a lightning sudden battle
flashes and thunders
swift and powerful force
is spent and in the struggle
the contested core is accidentally
detonated which would have killed
everyone and rendered
a one hundred square mile area
serenely sterile, except the blue
skinned one after a quick kiss
on the cheek of a stammering
comrade, sacrifices himself
and saves everyone.
stunned into silence the squads stand
one touches her cheek where moments ago
there was warmth, and weeps
in the next hours as the day progresses
before the fleet of black helicopters lands
there is a rodeo of three legged whales
a conclave of the ghosts of bitter clowns
and the rise and fall of an entire civilization
of intelligent leaf people
all traces of these are removed at last
by the government fixers in their
scary weird space suits
trees straightened, grass re-planted
fence posts re-positioned,
like a landscape painter they place
with casual precision every tuft and tussok
and just before they leave, they replace
the heron, a mechanical marvel designed
to watch over known trouble spots
like this one