Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘ambience’

MIDSUMMER LIGHT

The woods are settled now and full.
Their heavy green skirts spread cool
And pleated in each valley’s green lap.
Nest and nested, crowned with shade,
They glow of a midsummer evening
Into a slow, white bow of twilight
Patterned with bats and owls,
A stretched and quiet expanse,
The tropic and declination of invisible motion,
A singular silvered attendance upon silence.

2017/06/img_2714.jpg

Read Full Post »

SWIMMING MOON

swimming moon
and floated in light

this sorrowful world
surrenders to peace

a few hours bathed clear
in blue shadowed silence

thought waters
white, rippled
reflecting one perfect smile

all will settle homewards,
belonging

never having left:
a moment only,
forgetting completion.

2016/05/img_2087.jpg

Read Full Post »

2016/05/img_2079.jpg

A Landscape Illuminated.

It is the drift between the breath of in and of out,
the fleshy petalled night a poison,
and an endless moonlit rain.

In gardens at very least, the green
will muscle upwards a brief month or two
from cuckoo’s bell and sighing swallows
to the ticking, scratching melodious crickets.

In hills, now, flakes of gold are falling snow silent
and the thin ghosts ever crying for justice
in the long, cold, blue shadows.

We dim with daisies a glimmer haze
And drop of hawthorn goddess,
scented and mean on red-folded air.

Sliding, we are sliding, uncertainly
whether up or down again, the long drip.
Time it is dripping, invented, named, measured
and wasted away as if dawn and sunset were not enough,
and the stars forever clouded and lost in mystery, as they are.

Adrift and turning, rocked gently, dismally declined.
Warmth slow escaping, longing for another somewhere
with bees and lilac and long, painless sleep.
A landscape illuminated, kissed in light,
unburdened with consequence, unfolded.

2016/05/img_2088.jpg

Read Full Post »

See how the sharp edge
of the moon
is a whetstone to the wind.
worn down, nail thin,
by heaven’s river.

keen, I suppose,
will be the waters at Pwll Bo.
focused, brown and roaring curses,
squeezed between rocks
in the ringing, whirled pools.

there is only this:
sudden mystery rippling
waves of grass;
a dog barking
as the hills come and go.
the waves of their edge
breaking deep
to the green valley’s bed.

last day of January-
flooded with passion
for things unmade.

and the yews of Aberglasney
will be bowed down
from the weight of stars,
their dark corridors
woven deeply with tingled silence,
a worm’s turn from Spring.

2016/01/img_1797.jpg

Read Full Post »

Under a silent sky
Stretched with cloud,
Grasses loll green and pink and grey.

A firmament of birdsong
Curled, woven to sift shading green.

Tractors sigh and roar down the lanes.
Fields turned now and mown.

Stay quiet, stay still a while,
Hear how the river mumbles.

Fed we are,
Appeased by the width of things:

The deep caverned wood,
The slow, fine rains,
Flowers, now, of cloud.

2015/07/img_1576.jpg

Read Full Post »

A lovely mist
Swaddles and swathes,
Dissolving the ground.

The chant of it –
An ululation of hilltops,
A thin taste of cloud.

The silent morning,
A slow rolling light,
A gentlest breeze,
A river ripple.

A high
And abandoned moon
Sings up the sun.

Read Full Post »

A feathered crouch
Cool and slewed wind

Mountains hunch
Shuffle in and out

Tides of rain
A slow long tune.

A green nation
Rules the cuckoo’s voice

Stretched long the river rings
Vivid is the wood

Tousled the tall larch
Fathoms deep the bluebell haze

Grey and dappled
All sorrow weighed with joy

In tonsured cities
Days careful are numbered
Then forgot.

2015/05/img_1450.jpg

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: