Lines in nature

words Michael Oliver
images by James Morris

Mankind. What a strange insect.
Order, a regular order is imposed;
Nests are built, they are built
In rows. Every scrap of metal,
Wood, is found a place, made of use;

Conquering landscapes, concreting,
Colonising, congregating;
How we love to try and make sense of things,
And a sense of well being;
Build holiday homes,
Make a stand, at the end of the world;

The rivers flow, trees kneel to drink,
Beaches reach out to sea, valleys
Rise and fall, how we love
To make sense of it all.

Order and peace.
The Earth breathes.
How we love to think our pulses are
Synchronised.
The Earth exhales;
Rivers burst their

Banks, mountains collapse, rows
And rows of homes and holiday homes
Are reduced to sand, as the sea spills,
As tree roots, those giant wooden hands
Pull and ruin and drag,
Until mankind realises

Order is restored.