Earth Cycles Poem by Barry Middleton

When the sun rises,
shinning on dew graced fields,
a mother answers to her baby's cry,
and there is hope.

Childhood is innocence,
but only for the lucky ones.
The world is cleaved to a blessing,
and the curse of evil.

The hawk rides a thermal
half way to heaven.
Below, its prey is crossed
by a shadow.

Earth is an abundant garden,
a bounty of flower and fruit,
and too it is a desert,
a barren, desiccated landscape
of thirst and starvation.

Weight gathers in dark clouds;
storms of war sweep the land.
The dove is blown by the wind.

Love comes and goes
on a spring breeze.
Love is inconstant;
love is a betrayer.

Age creeps like a predator.
Hidden until it leaps,
the tiger takes its prey.

Death is a welcome sleep,
the strange reward
for blood and tears.
Death is a saboteur.

Again the sun rises,
waves of grain
are stirred by the wind.
A child is born to tears,
and soothed
by the touch of its mother.

The earth turns,
the moon circles in its cycle.
The sun rises and sets
until we join the stardust.