The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way our umbilicus.
Is it a consolation that the stuff of which we’re made
is star-stuff too?
– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –
dispersal only: carbon, hydrogen, nitrogen, oxygen.
Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.
Saturday, 11 February 2012
'the empty spaces between stars'
Dog and I go up to the field now to dig a couple of leeks in the deep dusk; our approach sets a clatter of woodpigeons from the trees. Above me Jupiter and Venus are blazing; and is that Mercury over in the east? In the little orchard, the silhouettes of apple trees show swelling nodes; secret buddings going on. I've forgotten so many things this winter: to wake the apple trees with a Wassail on the 17th January; to plant garlic before that, on the winter solstice; to order onion sets; to continue with my druidic studies. I haven't forgotten the sound of my mum's voice, nor the softness of her hands, nor the way her face would light up at my arrival.
In the dimpsy the trees rustle. Above, high high up, a plane's contrail stitches the stars together.
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