The moor shaking out her green finery, setting yellow fire to gorse
at the back door
this cleft rock –
home to moss and horse shit
The way earth holds death and life together in her belly, makes no judgement. We feel all the time we need to choose, to decide, to 'move forward', to achieve. How would it be if we could simply dwell in the cycles of it all?
constant chatter of drops
this leaky gutter
my mind
Outside, blackbird song. Spring doing her thing without our help; each year clothing this cherry with flakes of sunlight.
*
The larch tree is full of herself again, has emerged with Persephone to give us another summer of her greenness
in the rocky bank
bumblebee
fumbles at the wrong hole
and all the while a soft rain seduces earth's skin to open
the imperative
is growth
usually
it will break you apart
until, stumbling, you find yourself at the foot of the right mountain at exactly the right moment, ready to begin again.
*
© Roselle Angwin 2016
Walking the Old Ways : nature, the bardic & druidic arts, holism, Zen, the ecological imagination
from BARDO
The stars are in our belly; the Milky Way
Is it a consolation
is star-stuff too?
– That wherever you go you can never fully disappear –
Tree, rain, coal, glow-worm, horse, gnat, rock.
Roselle Angwin
I settle down to writing, procrastinating, looking for courage, inspiration, and there you are with handfuls of hope: I feel that gentle push in the hollow of my back, whisper to myself – I can do it – then close this and go to pages.
ReplyDeleteThanks Ro, for such a beautiful start to this writing day – the garden, the world here alight, mist consumed.
Miri x
What a lovely, and poetic, response, Miri. Thank you. Rx
ReplyDelete