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Showing posts from October, 2019

The Mist

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the mist
the mist came down last night, came in softly
a drowned world between here and Winter Hill just spires and tree tops jutting out above;
archipelago in Pacific fog grey but lustrous - has eroded edges
all the gaps are filled with mother of pearl the middle-willow distance gone over,
lightly stippled with a softening brush so watercolours run, bleeding into
tump-grassy nearby and all that's behind words are becoming detached corner first
shaking free, the children are leaving home what used to be a branch is shedding nouns
twig, leaf, acorn and bark have now all gone borders dissolved and separation smudged
all of it replaced with a sea of this the sun comes at last pooling rosy mist
white whips tilt and float up, slow and steady a flock of birds drops down reattaching
returning to things, the birds are words














"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower"

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A trudge becomes a treasure hunt

One of my favourite things is to be doing something - it happens most of when walking on the patch - feeling uninspired, maybe bored - then completely turning it around.

...a thoroughly dull and grey, uninspiring October morning with little of interest. Then I noticed something new - the wonderful way leaves were turning autumnal.

The fantastic patterns and combinations of colours were unique to each. Suddenly this beauty was all around. I started looking for the best ones. A weary trudge had become a treasure hunt, I had a autumnal spring in my step.

This isn't hidden beauty in the way maybe some inaccessible wonder deep in a cave is hidden - it was there all along. It's only hidden until we see it.

It's everywhere.

"Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower" - Albert Camus