Crop Circles

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Grass circles mark the mystic voyages
our vision has been too obscured to see.
The shaman's eyes are wise,
tuned to the skies,
privy to the ancient mystery:
star voyagers, whose tales
are not yet part of history.

We sleep-walk, we who think 
men rule the world.
In truth, nature wields her power 
with judiciousness and care
till, too provoked, full fury is 
unleashed upon us, unaware.
Soon, her wrath, appeased,
subsides, knowing
she has left her potent
warning message there.

I aimed somewhat for the voice of Judith Wright, introduced to us by Grace at Real Toads. Her poem BORA RING spoke to me, and inspired this poor echo.

This topic reminds me of a panel of inventors and scientists I sat in on some years back, people passionate about clean energy and knowledgeable about all of the inexplicable mystery of things seen and unseen. I remember one scientist explaining, when he traveled to a grass circle, one might have expected, had a heavy circular object landed in that field, to find broken and crushed grass stalks. He said, on examination, it looked like the grass had "lain down" (his words) in that circle, and he found no broken strands. Interesting.

I am also thinking of the typhoon in Taiwan and China, nature's fury unleashed once again, on this unsettled planet.