chris english
The Snail, the Fly and the Blackbird, Treasure Island, the Sky and the Sea.,Oil colour on canvas, 58″ x 39″. © C. English.

The Snail, The Fly and The Blackbird,
Treasure Island, The Sky and The Sea.

The hermit comes
Out from his shell
Alone along the silver
path of Snails.

A bluebottle Fly flew by
And saw with her big wide eye
An island of coloured shells.
She stared and stared,
Watching the Snail
Glistening in gold.

From the Sea came a Blackbird,
Swooping down in a rage of ragged wings.
“Quick! Hide.” said the Fly to the Snail,
“Here comes a witch, a raven hag,
To ravish at your flesh.”

The Snail said to the Bird
“I have come from a mountain
Of many jewels.
I have found an opening
to my cave
Where light filters through
The depth of my coming.”

The Fly, with wings that filled the Sky with colour
Came down to the cave and said to the Snail,
“Treasure is rarely found and kept
Within the ground of an Island,
Beware of the Sea.”

The Snail said the Fly,
“I heard your warning
But I could not have known,
I was just too naive.
The heart appeared hollow
To the crow
That cast its own shadow.
I came from a globe of colour
Within the shell of the Sea,
Of the same Earth,
From a depth within its World.”

Upon the shore of an Island
Comes a wave, the Blackbird,
Diluting the sands as it soaks the beaches.
As the Bird plunders its prey
In its coming and going
A piece of an Island
Slips away.

© C. English