The earth is eighty percent covered in water. Within that volume from surface ripples to the great abyss are millions of tiny plants (phyto-plankton), these are fundamental to the well-being of the planet.
Manic pound of demonic storm,
black edged wind ripping unfurled wave,
tossed upon a heaving swell
rising lathered in unconscious heat
a seething soup of life upwells.
The plankton froth that flies in plumes
frothing spume in spindrift rent
breathing deep a carbon breath
the cleansing spin of wild typhoon.
Scorching on a levelled blue,
basked in sun, on doldrum still,
these replicating drifters dance
and fashion frames as Faberge.
In untold legions of crafted guild
binding minerals in skeletal grasp,
to turn, aloof, in pirouette
with ballerina point and swirl.
Diamond lace in sparkling mist
casts a mesmerising grace
as metachronal rhythm beats
through the column to the depths.
Poised to balance this turning orb
they sink to deep abyssal ooze.
Pressed and squeezed in compacted death
to turn as continents reborn.
In global warming waters rising
a final spasm, a poisoned flush.
A wild, ecstatic, unbounded bloom
then in multitudes they fade.
Acid sea makes wraith like;
no terror formed
past tipping point.
Rob T Dec 2015