Journey of Words

Tag: Separation

  • Wick’s End

    We lit the candle togetherHolding the splint, hand over handFlame flared, formed, flickeredCame to life We laughed and blew out the taperFollowed its dissipating smoke into the darkTurned our eyes to the fresh wax lightTo sprites dancing on the walls Laid enrapt until drowsyIn warmth formed bondsOf breath and limbsWe fell to sleep sapped of →

  • Day 46

    Winds from the south-west are more amenable than most. They will make it easier for the swifts to get here. Swifts are the birds of summer for me. I look forward to their arrival in the next few days. In the interim swallows and martins are becoming more common now. I watched two martins gathering →

  • On Friday

    Strange days become weeks Calendar page turns again What of tomorrow? . CLP 01/05/2020 →

  • Day 44

    The sunlight of recent weeks has been a boon, but these darker days are more in tune with the current mood. Are they reflective of it, or the cause of the recent shift in humour? I realise that the lowering clouds, the loss of the greater space beyond, is matched by the thickening of leaves →

  • Day 42

    The road is just visible ahead. There is light in the sky topping off the highest clouds. The air is damp. There are puddles. There are no street lights here. It is dark enough for the birds to have stopped flying and to have ceased singing.  The main sounds are a few spots of rain on →

  • Day 40

    Whoa! A premature summer’s day has been delivered to our doorstep, without a knock. No wind, not a breath.  I step out. All I can hear is the sound of my flip-flops flick-flacking down the lane and bees buzzing. The birds are drowsy in this unfamiliar heat. Sparrows offer desultory cheeps from the dusty roadside. →

  • Day 39

    The hedgerows are changing. The blackthorn’s fine white petals have thinned out and the dark spikes are being shaded out by greenery, as the hawthorn, the May Tree is dressing up in its finery. Where the plant is a tree, it shines out from copses and hedgerows. In the shade of the hedge, it is →

  • Day 38

    I go up the lane where I first recognised a horsetail sprouting in a verge many years ago. Then so rare to my eyes and now so common. Are there more of them, or is it my awareness of them that makes them more obvious now? It was a strange plant to my eye then, →

  • Day 35

    Cycling west along the coast road to the next village this morning took about half the time of any previous trip. The east wind pushed me along as I pedalled furiously to take full advantage. It was thrilling to travel so fast without wind rushing in my ears, without battling to make progress. It reminded →

  • Day 27

    Deep sleep broken by the unfamiliar heavy rain on the window; big, fat, heavy splats. I lie awake listening to the wind in the trees, until the rough sea and rain’s rhythm ease me back to sleep. The local temperature fell by more than sixteen degrees centigrade in less than twenty four hours. From shorts →