Poetic Sculpture

My move to the Algarve saw a further development of creative style . . . and a new combination of artistic outlets. This, my first sculpt in Portugal, expresses the effect that the big events of life in the forested mountainside, have been having on me . . . and how I've been coming to terms with them. It's constructed of eucalyptus, from seed pod (eyes) through young shoot (body) to chopped down trunk (base). The head is a piece of wood, found on our estate, turned almost to charcoal by fires here a few years ago:

Forest Phoenix

Alarm bells ring
Volunteers* scramble
Noses twitch, faces frown
Air fills with smoke, ash
And the smell of
Fear, panic, loss

Chainsaws growl and whine
Loggers sweat
Branches quiver, trunks crash
Mountainside fills with dead leaves, decay
And the sight of
Destruction, control, greed

Dust settles
Bombeiros* & loggers move on
Nature breathes again
Waits
Then renews, replenishes
With new life
From ash and saw-dust

(*firemen in Portugal are called the Bombeiros and are volunteers)