Sonnet

The sparrow finds a home.
And the swallow a nest for her young.
All wisdom is contained in nature’s tome.
Unconscious goodness in the throat of a bird is sung.

The tractor was ploughing and drilling the field.
All was in order with straight lines marked.
But a great disorderly flock of gulls followed and wheeled.
All careful efforts of man unmarked.

Could our intelligence be less than an ant’s; we worship our ego and our life.
But minutes after we die, all electrical currents in the brain cease.
All memories, all hope and fears, cut away utterly with bloodless knife.
No freehold for us, only an all too temporary non renewable lease.

But hopefully our crumbling temple though destroyed.
Will after a few days, in glory and in other form, be restored.

Haiku

Our temple destroyed
Then after three days restored
In greater glory