Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘landscape’

Light-hammered days.
Green burnished boughs.
Always this beginning
Scoured by cold winds.
Here and gone before we know it.
Birdsong too intricate to remember –
This woven life
With subtlest changes,
The dream repeats.
Though you might wish it,
There are no lessons to learn.
All the stories, a foam of blackthorn,
Blossoming suddenly everywhere.
Taste this now, it will soon be gone.
Gone to return, a somewhat different song,
Called out from another valley,
A little nearer, a little farther off.

Read Full Post »

SPRING SCATTER (haiku-ish)

Moon as bright as morning
burnished by a cold wind.
Mountain river white as clouds.

Floating mountain.
Two crows.
Spring sun melts frost.

Cold wind.
Bright sunlit air.
These blackthorn days:
Tumbled jewels.

Along the lanes,
blackthorn blossom.
On the high hills:
the bones of the snow.

Read Full Post »

EXTRACTING BEAUTY FROM ENDLESS SORROWS

A fine Spring day
(though only a city-dweller
would believe that winter is over).
The thrush is singing
in the chapel pines
and on the hills
the thud of bombs.
A woodpecker is drilling
in the valley,
(or is it machine guns
over the ridge?)

Read Full Post »

CALM ABIDING ON WILD PONY MOUNTAIN

Facing the silent mountain
I sit listening to the wind.
Thoughts like streaming clouds
Come and go.
Only the weight of woven sunlight
Keeps me here, shaped by colours,
And the road through the valley
That promises still so much.

2019/03/img_5658.jpg

Read Full Post »

STORM PASSING

Sway , as wind makes the grasses.
Here then there (but silence in the soil still).
It, breathing, roars. Tears away what breath there is.
It, moving, alights and passes through all, a sudden thing.
It, breathing, shudders the solid, twists each sound.
The singing fires dance free and the slope of wings as sharp as scythes.
Sedge, winter dry, rattles with a serpent’s hiss.
On tip-toe we scramble homewards, whipped eyes watering.
Such a small thing, this flush of weather. Half a day
Flooded with impecable instants of translucent uncertainty.
And we, made small again and frail by ineffable, invisible airs.

Read Full Post »

LUMINOUS 2

The day has no horizons
aimless we are where we wander.

short hours lost, dressed in silence
free of consequence, free of purpose.

as if the world were just created,
six days gone and the seventh, wondering.

the burden of memory not yet felt,
luminous ghosts of joy in luminous surrender.

and the hum of bees
or distant traffic
or chanting.

2019/03/img_4292.jpg

Read Full Post »

SNOW SEQUENCE

River words turn running slow.
To see, to say, to move on.
A winter’s day has little warmth.

A winter’s day has little warmth.
We huddle around our hearts,
Crunch bowed through snow.

Crunch bowed through snow
Finding footprints to keep to,
White hollows the slipping lanes.

White hollows the slipping lanes.
Lines of hedge float empty
Cold smudges reasons to move.

Cold smudges reasons to move.
Time falls in flakes ending all.
Weighted we bob, suddenly uncertain.

Suddenly uncertain,
This is not the world we own nor shape.
Even names for things have dissappeared.

Even names for things have disappeared.
The river mutters between teeth of ice.
Slick and black the waters smirk.

Slick and black the waters smirk.
Glass cold whispers sliding by.
River words turn running slow.

2019/02/img_4423.jpg

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »

%d bloggers like this: