Jura
Dark, dank, the woods know what lies beneath.
Half-moon hills arc betwixt Frankish and Romansh
The land of the forest is waking.
Leaves rustle like crinkled paper compressed around a gift,
Fridge’ chilled spring water dances over stones,
Moving curtains of water falling breath-taking.
The lumber mines grind, demanding and shrill
As saw circles around with its shark teeth grin,
Whilst crystals salty are slowly baking.
The Frenchman enamels the ornament in Sèvres
Modest in
nature, he studies the landscape
And records
every detail painstaking.
Rock mass
and minerals that glint to the eye,
He captures them all and reptiles observes,
Arranges geological form ground breaking.
Brongniart studies the Jura with an eye for the classic
And from fossil bearing strata baptises the Jurassic.
By Linda Prince
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