Poetry (words)

Of nature.

There is no fate here, just a memory on a wave, a moment in time. Destiny a spiderweb, a looking glass of light. A slow trickle becomes a stream, a reflection of all it sustains. Is this study or becoming? Would I swap these limbs for the iridescent wings of a dragonfly to capture light like faith in the cathedral glass.

Beauty is defined here, on a sensual breeze that shines in whispers crossing time, a slowing of speed to equal the heart. Poems are thoughts before they are words, flowing to fruition like the uncurling fern or the fledglings feathers in that first tentative flight. Although the tools that place them here are the implements of man, they are born of nature.

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Poetry (words)

Within this pause

The landscape…it breathes, every curve an undiscovered sigh. We scale its heights, our footprints the tiny repercussions of our existence. Without knowledge we clamber through. When the silence falls does the ground exhale, do the trees celebrate our slumber. This short window of freedom until we once more stake claim on the vast swathes of beauty. Our plots, our properties, our concrete mass inching further still like a slow ocean of ignorance.

Nature forgives, it battles through our disasters. It drowns in our discarded commitments, it sustains, it replenishes, it heals. We are blind to its scars, in all of our scurrying we see but fleeting snippets of life. In silence the land reclaims and within this pause the seeds of infinite life are born.

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Poetry (words)

Walking the path.

Every morning and evening I get a connection for a couple of hours. I upload my photos and I read Robert Macfarlane’s ‘Word of the day’. Every day ends as perfectly as it started. I sleep with a contented soul. I have no particular route, just walk, absorb the light and surroundings. Notes, not that strong emotions are fleeting, but they sometimes come like the spring tide in a gale. Sometimes completely new sensations, watching the clouds slowly overwhelm the landscape with shadow. Pockets of light revealing hues often unnoticed. Stonework like a palette of watercolours for the finest painting, how they blend with nature….

…..to be continued

Been walking with “Noonday Dream” today. Maybe I’m biased, but it’s a beautiful album. Lyrically poignant. ‘What the Moon Does’ is my favourite track.

Having a beer and listening to the sea, out of reach. Out of the loop.

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