Blue Shirts, Scorched

the woman in the rock changes
in the seasons--now you see her
face in profile, then again she
disappears beyond a curtain

of greenery, shading her from
the sun, giving refuge to animals
of all ilk, glittering eyes watching
all as they come and go, eating

and being eaten, hatching out their
young, feeding the same, evading
those predators who would consume
one

war on her and the pike comes out.
immovable stone, stolid, unblastable
rock, reaching down to the molten
centre of the earth, giving her
that heat to warm others, to
warn others

the blue shirts, scorched, top
the bonfire, flames riddling
the rubbish while the printed
word looks on in silent paragraphs

and the seasons change, and
she does too, her aspect changing
with the coursing of the sun