When I was a little girl I would sing the birds from the
trees: wander wondrous landscapes; dance through golden fields; watch fox cubs
playing in bluebell woods and kingfishers diving into bubbling brooks. My words
would spill over onto the page. Oh, to be a child ...
the writers house
Wednesday, February 21, 2018
Wednesday, May 27, 2015
Danglingly
'What do you do?'
she asked very directly.
A moment of silence
fell between us.
I struggled –
embarrassed.
It came out
danglingly on the tip of my tongue
– my confession.
She smiles.
She
understood.
I was suddenly very shy.
There was a sense of
magic in the air.
But this is not
about me,
it is about her.
An unexpected
generosity bubbled in her words as she spoke with a down-to-earth,
getting-to-the-point,
putting-it-down-on-paper sort of way.
It reflected
itself in every tiny detail of the room.
Nothing was out of
place.
'I'm glad you told
me,' she said.
'I didn't want to.'
'Why not?'
'Because it might
have gotten in the way.'
'Well I'm glad that
you did.
Look where it has
taken us.'
It is that
conversational thing
that I wanted to
avoid.
Better to ask the
questions and listen to the answers
than to volunteer
one's self as a sacrifice on a first visit.
Tactics, we all use
them,
but she was one
ahead of me.
I fell at the first
hurdle.
taking the 'ordinary' and making it extra-ordinary, whereas it is not ordinary at all.
'Her eyes betrayed her.
She shied away, her emotions as raw as the sharp edge of a kitchen knife. She took her pain and stabbed it into the table, scattering the silver-wear that had been used daily in their everyday lives.
That which had been so precious - taken for granted, was now tarnished beyond repair; ........'
'Her eyes betrayed her.
She shied away, her emotions as raw as the sharp edge of a kitchen knife. She took her pain and stabbed it into the table, scattering the silver-wear that had been used daily in their everyday lives.
That which had been so precious - taken for granted, was now tarnished beyond repair; ........'
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Monday, September 23, 2013
welcome
Welcome.
The view here this morning is open blue. Wide skies and a level of misty clouds lay on the hills. Sunlight seeps through, casting patches of light onto the quiet sea.
A buzzard lands on a post and settles. Tiny birds flit back and forth between the nearby trees.
All is silent, waking, anticipating.
A sharp light flashes. The silent white yell of the Strumble Head lighthouse, warns passing ships.
A gush of seagulls suddenly scream into the stillness and are gone.
Bright rays of brilliant sunlight move over the land towards the edge, where sharp sea cliffs glow.
Ravens take to the air, their cries loud and sharp, cutting into the flesh of this new day.
Sunbeams bleed down into Witches Cauldron, flooding it with daylight.
It's sea becomes bright blue.
God's arm reaches down into Cardigan Bay.
A breath gently runs its fingers through the dry, golden grass of late summer.
Seed heads rattle in the breeze.
Noisy young geese fly overhead - looking to land in Willie's field.
A child steps out into the vastness and the wonder of it all,
feeling very, very small......
The view here this morning is open blue. Wide skies and a level of misty clouds lay on the hills. Sunlight seeps through, casting patches of light onto the quiet sea.
A buzzard lands on a post and settles. Tiny birds flit back and forth between the nearby trees.
All is silent, waking, anticipating.
A sharp light flashes. The silent white yell of the Strumble Head lighthouse, warns passing ships.
A gush of seagulls suddenly scream into the stillness and are gone.
Bright rays of brilliant sunlight move over the land towards the edge, where sharp sea cliffs glow.
Ravens take to the air, their cries loud and sharp, cutting into the flesh of this new day.
Sunbeams bleed down into Witches Cauldron, flooding it with daylight.
It's sea becomes bright blue.
God's arm reaches down into Cardigan Bay.
A breath gently runs its fingers through the dry, golden grass of late summer.
Seed heads rattle in the breeze.
Noisy young geese fly overhead - looking to land in Willie's field.
A child steps out into the vastness and the wonder of it all,
feeling very, very small......
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)