Sky Pink

From along the ridge

I saw through Swell Wood’s winter skeleton

To the sun-bathed Levels

Their rain-full grips and rhynes

Fields; mirrors to the sky

That held the pink tinge

Of chilled noses

Numb fingers

Of frost-smoke breath

Of the cold that will fall

From behind the stars tonight

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n.b. Grip: cut in the Levels to ease water run off. Rhyne: water channel cut along field edges to provide a way to hold drinking water for livestock and to mark boundaries in lieu of hedgerows.

CLP 19/01/2020

Open Plan Living

Homes built to protect

From nature’s extremes hold us

Safe as prisoners

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n.b. Realisation that we are in climate crisis has dawned fastest amongst those who live exposed to nature. Its worst manifestations affect the lives of our poorest and most remote communities first and hardest.

Those of us wealthy enough to close our doors and windows to weather, rich enough to produce artificial climates through air-conditioning systems, privileged enough to fly around the world avoiding rising seas and flooding rivers, are now learning that each step we have taken away from living within the complexity of nature, its inconveniences and discomforts, has led us deeper into a cul-de-sac of technology that reinforces the divide between Earth and humankind.

How can we row back when the tide is against us?

Can we start by stepping out and letting nature embrace us, perhaps? I offer you the following link to a simple haiku that celebrates living in nature…”open to anything” by a writer of rare talent.

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CLP 19/01/2020

Unreel

Moments of time caught

Touch stones, listen to echoes

Hot feet on cool flags

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n.b. There are places and events in life that stay close to the heart, others are left in situ for your unexpected, unplanned reappearance, ready to catch you unawares. How you spontaneously respond will tell you a lot about how the evoked recollection has registered with you.

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This morning I heard a remarkable story of coincidence in respect of a death foretold and its place of happening. A poignant moment for the teller.

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This afternoon I found myself in a village that I never thought I would see again without carefully plotting a return. An invitation to pay a visit to a relative led me into surprise and delight on arrival at the location, only once briefly seen in July 2018, on a hot summer day. The fresh cold streams channeled through stone gutters and the reviving beer flooded back to me. I was awash in nostalgia.

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CLP 17/01/2020

Plot Lines

Her and Him

Him and Her

Developed

A story that drew them

Across the sea

Through mountain passes

By the lake

Through the vines

Along the beach

Coast to coast

In sunsets, at sunrises

On trains. ferries, planes

Bikes, cars, on foot

To cafés, restaurants, hotels

Bookshops and op shops

To farms and gardens

Caravans, tipi, yurt

As shepherds, cowhands, gardeners

Vintners, juicers

Painters, carpenters

Chicken farmers

They worked

Then Earth tilted toward Winter

Its axis wobbled

Threw them out

Unravelled the thread

Her and Him

Him and Her

Started writing

Different stories

Without firm conclusions

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CLP 15/01/2020