Tuesday, August 2, 2016

|| cees maurick ||

Feet firmly planted on ground
as though they grew
out of the earth
like some forest species
reflected in his eye
the blue of the sky turns bluer
from the ocean the tender-hearted friend
fills his heart
boundless in his affection

Tired with the world
he seeks haven in the forest
more civilized than the world

This animal loving hunter
hunts to save the forest
and its denizens

As the talk turns serious
his forefinger describes
an unending whorl on his temple
as if tightening the invisible
screws of his brain

To indicate money
he rubs the tip of his forefinger against his thumb
And says - Money

Money… and Mind
that is Cees Maurick
Money calls for Mind
but Mind calls for something
that only Cees Maurick knows

From the walls of his
river-front home
heads of deer turn
their innocent eyes
wondering at the goings-on
birds perching
turning tables into living branches

Following a day spent
unraveling the intricacies of commerce
the evening finds him
among his animals
stroking their bodies, their fur
nudging their foreheads
their lifeless
bodies hold the joy of touch

For children, the hand
of an angel
for friends the hand
of a friend
for dear ones
the touch of living love
the worst enemy
of the violent

Countering worry with amusement
he dissolves his laughter
sharing his energy
in friendship with friends and family
he is the wine
that lubricates the machinery
of his business

His home, a strange aviary
of forest and water bird
models and masks
he loves his forest animals
like friends
and like his home
loves the forest

I often wonder
though commerce be his blood
is the forest his home
are animals his friends
is life his real love

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