THERE are NIGHTS like THIS...

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There are nights like this,
owl soft and hung
with sheep song, when
the larches on Sunrising
slant limb-wise on
westerly winds, that lying
here upon this mossy
backbone, scented with cow
and gorse and the cold wet
earth, I know with all certainty
that, unless I dig my fingers
deep into the knotted roots
of grass at my side, I would fall

Upwards into the blackness
of the sky, trailing cold
star-fire through my outstretched
fingers.

WORDS on an EBB Tide

Work (paid and unpaid)... words that ceased to fit my world... that sense of turning inwards (positively and negatively)... shadows in the stillness... have all contrived to take my time and keep me away.

I have long learnt not to fear these fallow times; these times when words dry up... when you pick up a pen and it feels dry and lifeless. For I am dug from a world of ebb and flow; the tide, the sap, the sun's warmth. It is right and proper that those rhythms also pulse deep within me.

These spells are not to be feared - they are a part of us. They make us who we are. It is not as if I rely on words for my living...
No, my need to write is far more important than that.
I write because it reminds me how precious and beautiful it is to breathe.
I write because my heart would explode if I did not.

For awhile I haven't had the heart to open my blog and now that I have, I am touched beyond words (ironically) by the comments I find here.

I know the tide will turn and I will write again, for it feels as if my heart is so heavy with unborn words and with feelings that have no name. I want run up Windmill Hill and to take a broom and write in fire across the skies so that it will rain my heart down upon the woods and fields, and that the winds will find music to those words that lie mute and unformed in my soul.

The nestlings are beginning to flex their wings and I too share their joy of the early summer winds.

If YOU are to OPEN this day...

... then let it be with arms open wide to the sun and the rain and the restless joy of the seasons...



FOR IF YOU WERE TO stand on the river bank

                  beside the tall, wild rushes and the dark, reedy places where the trout and the shy chubb hide

     and you were to jump....

                                       ..... you would jump with such joy, such spontaneity, such exultant hoops of laughter, that the waters would break like crystals, hanging like a beaded curtain in the air, to welcome you.

You would, wouldn't you?

FOR IF YOU WERE TO stand beneath the stars

                    and you looked up into that cavernous bowl of giants and tiny heroes spun with the filigree lace of ancient stories
     
      and you were to dance...

                                      .... you would dance until your heart burst and the silence of the universe rushed into your soul like the floods of Noah and you would embrace what it is to be truly lost in beauty and truth.

You would, wouldn't you?

FOR IF YOU WERE TO stand on the grassy hill of your childhood

                     and among the golden fields of dandelion clocks you were to stretch out your arms until you felt your feet leaving the ground

      and you found yourself flying...

                                      .... you would fly fearlessly and high, shattering the silvered air and loosing forever the sullen bonds that hold you earthbound. And looking down, lark-like, you would scatter the thrill of your song upon the countryside and city.

You would, wouldn't you?

 SO... 

                  ....  IF YOU ARE TO open this day,
                           
                                    not just any day, but This very day that awaits the touch of your footstep                                  

.... then let it be with open arms wide and the joy that only you can bring to this world

Have YOU ever touched a LEAF...

... that buds full of SPRING upon a tree? A flame of emerald FIRE on the tip of your finger. It has waited all WINTER ... through those long nights of FROST and starlight and the aching RIBS of foxes... through those burning WINDS and sloughing rains and MISTS as brown as they are grey... It KNEW one day that this DAY would come... when it will burst with LIFE... a flame of emerald fire....

.... and for what day are YOU waiting ?

Slowly the bird arises above the silvered mists of dawn...

Listen, my heart... be brave and soar into this DAY of days...     .... for it is your destiny to walk footloose among the shards of broken  wonder   ...        ... to fill your lungs with air (doesn't it feel good...     this taste of LIFE that dances upon the tip of your tongue?)   ...                                        ....

        ... and to touch the preciousness of life     ...     that is drowning in a stranger's sad and SILENT smile...