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Posts Tagged ‘Solstice’

STANDSTILL

Frown-dark hill

Red kite’s raw call

Still valley wood

Snaked silver streams

Low sun shudders.

Thin flask shivered:

One day moon

Necklace silver

Cool stream sliced

Bedded deep

Winter night.

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SKYWARDS

Days ornamented with cloud,
Days dressed and wrapped in skirts of wind,
(The silk, shot silk green, the rippled fields of barley).
June bordered with honeysuckle, with dog rose,
Woven with the flitter of chaffinch, of bullfinch.
Woven into the choir of blackbirds
These hours, these stretching days,
Reaching skywards with the steepling grasses
Well towards solstice, well towards standstill,
The uppermost sun, the huge curving moon,
The silver singing stars of summer.
And us here, all of us here, within, without,
The commonest of senses, simple, watching
A gathering of friends, a multitude murmuring,
A cellular symphonic, rippled, waving, skywards.

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WHITE SUN

A white sun
Drags low its cloak
Of long shadows.

The whispered song is
Fierce starlight,
Bitter winds.

Fast, small life,
This little wren
Dives into ivy,
Chiding sudden rain.

Standing still
To watch
An old pause
In time,
A breath
Caught, held,
Witnessed.

The dance melancholic,
A glory retained.
Satin, smoothed,
It slips
So swiftly by:
Shortest day.

—-

TEETER, THE BRINK

Now is the dark time.
What shall we do but sleep
Or light a lamp.
Illuminate, dream.
Mould our visions,
Plant good seeds
In hope.

The fast bleak grasp
Throttles sense,
Extinguishes
Simple warmth.
Small goodnesses
Are left us only,
And so they must suffice.

Trust in a return,
Slow or sweeping.
What is unlooked for
Yet remains.
To become unswayed,
To cherish, to succour.
Each one to their own dance,
A trace of footsteps
Leading back
From the cliff’s edge,
A whisper, a hand,
The ghost
Of a chance,
A good continuance,
A very garden.

—–

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MIDSUMMER DAYS
1
Heading, slowly north from under the cloud. As the road stretches, the sun breaks through. Heat seeps down and reflects up from the ground.

Wild rose and elder
The bones deep in my belly
Warm and relax.
Lazy summer clouds.

2
By nine
The hills are hidden
Light rain by the lake
Swifts dancing low

By ten
The day dips
A long twilight,
Undecided whether
It will leave or stay.
Ducks glide over the waters.

A moment only
The lime trees by the stream
Seem to radiate light
Before a sudden,
Most certain darkness.

The earth, at last,
Chooses the sleep of night.
The sky, though,
Still open eyed,
Too awake for stars.

—-

Solstice morning.
Lost amongst sweeping cloud
The sudden breeze makes rain
Under every tree.

Rested upon ripples
By degrees peace infiltrates.
Ducks line the lake shore.

—–

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Solstice: words revolve a standing sun.

I

On Momentous Occassions.

Not to be missed.
A once-in-a-lifetime experience!
This breath.

II

The Pleasurable Joy of Insignificance.

A seed on the breeze
Safe floating
Away from reach.

So small
In the hands
Of the world.

So safe
Amongst the cloak
of stars.

So small
So safe
No threat.

Floating free
Insignificant joy
Sparkle of bliss.

III

Two weeks of rain.
Finally, the moon!
An embarrassed smile.

IV

Hemlock and mallow.
The dead revived,
Stretch thick green limbs.

Cat’s ear and wild privet.
The living exhale
To fuel the world.

Yarrow and blood poppy.
The skylark’s song:
Blue and vast.

The apple, the cherry,
Yet small and hard,
Dreaming of sweetness.

Elder, oh elder!
A circumference of passion,
Honey cream and pensive.

The thick warm air
Slow, turning.
The world wants not,
Waits not,
Curls and moves:
A sleeping cat.

V

When I look into your eyes,
Moon of Guru Purnima:
Silver ripples across my heart.

VI

Steady rain.
No moon tonight,
Except the disc
Upon which you dance,
Goddess of Wisdom.

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First few notes and ideas from a trip to Iceland last December. Another piece disappeared soon after writing – joys of instant technology – perhaps the giants of the aurora prefer to remain hidden, together with the dragons of the ice….

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I

A slight
Misinterpretation…
It was not
“Nevermore”
The raven cried
But
“endless”
Or “forever”…..
That timeless view
only one who sees
The whole horizon
Can utter.

II

The weight of white, cutting wind
Relentless,
Borne over the miles of ice,
Raising ghosts that smoke and snake
Across the black remnant of ice-free ground….

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III

At first,
Day on day of snowfields
Aches eye and brain.
Tired of colourless, outstretched miles,
We long for a taste of colour,
A clash of the familiar….
But with the continuing cold
Comes acquiescence:
No longer is this a world you know,
No longer parameters judiciously to be weighed.

IV

The weight of gravity,
Settling white,
remorseless accumulations
Of slow curves.

“We do not care
For your insistent heartbeat.
A fist
Thrown against forever,
A line of footprints smoothed and vanishing…..”

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V

“Nevermore”
Was not the raven’s cry-
That
Was a mistranslation.

Understandable, though,
The tones of black
Require a certain bleak vision
Mixed with cold humour:

A perspective of wan horizons,
Endless fields of snow
Punctuated by moments
Of death….

The word
On every raven’s call
Is
“Forever”.

Maybe
It was a gloomy
New England Protestantism,
(Baldur dead forever),
Maybe
A seer’s view….

Try as you like,
Small human,
Whatever weavings and turnings,
Clever, fast, considered,
All shall return to forever,
The dust in my voice,
The iris of this instant.
My name is Horizon.

“Nevermore”
Is the cry of one
Who can never look over the world’s edge,
Never see the sun under the earth,
Night fuse,
Egg of light……

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SPELL CHARM FOR SUCCESS

I have planted a seed
Where the warm sun warms the soil.
It has grown a tree of strength,
An oak of stability.

I have planted a seed
Where the sweet rains water the roots.
It has grown a tree of abundance,
An oak of plenty.

I have planted a seed
Where the soft winds breathe balm.
It has grown a tree of protection,
An oak of nourishment.

I have planted a seed
Where the deep soil nurtures.
It has grown a tree of wonder,
An oak of magnificence,
A poplar of song
A birch of beauty
A willow of grace
A pine of clarity
A cherry of openness
A yew of permanenece
A door of achievement
A hall of splendour
Well-rooted,
Celebrated by all.

All the bright birds
Flock to roost-
Their noisy chatter
At dawn and dusk.
A home for brightness
A home to rest in.

They came from far horizons
They came to hear the leaf’s song
They came to hear the roots wisdom.
Bright blossom, sweet fruit,
Quiet shade, peace of fullness.

A tree from a seed.
A prize froma hope.
A song from a whisper.
A gathering of minds.
A glistening of gold.
A glory of attainment.

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