Evening light returns
fills the gaps between trees
branches unfurl leaves
~
n.b. There was still light in the sky after 17:30h on Monday evening. Everyday we move forward a little more.
~
CLP 01/03/2021
Evening light returns
fills the gaps between trees
branches unfurl leaves
~
n.b. There was still light in the sky after 17:30h on Monday evening. Everyday we move forward a little more.
~
CLP 01/03/2021
In majestic beeches
corvids settle on where to nest
on who will take the crown
before the opening of calyx
~
CLP 28/02/2021
We hold form by day
take different shapes at night
twisted by our dreams
~
CLP 22/02/2021
Deep howl of winter
trees low like birthing cattle
flakes of frozen tears
~
CLP 07/02/2021
Along with buddleja, the silver birch, (betula pendula) is often the first tree to set down roots and become established in the most unlikely situations. It grows fast and its white bark seems to split under the stress of holding the slender trunk together as it shoots up. It quickly becomes a tree of ornamental interest, with its beautifully shaped, serrated leaves, that turn from soft green to shimmering autumn gold before being shed.
Its adaptability and aesthetic appeal makes it an attractive specimen to plant when landscaping newly developed building plots in temperate climates.
Even a tree so slight in appearance brings a sense of permanence to a location. It breaks up the urban landscape, provides colour and natural shade in summer. Its leaves play with the light, like the sea, they dance to the vicissitudes of the weather and in winter their absence allows what light and warmth there is to pass through.
In contrast I sense that I have lived my recent years as if I am a tumbleweed.
Wikipedia states: A tumbleweed is a structural part of the above-ground anatomy of a number of species of plants, a diaspore that, once it is mature and dry, detaches from its root or stem, and rolls due to the force of the wind.
This windblown existence is how the plant distributes its seed and reproduces. I do not see any correlation between my life and this aspect of the tumbleweed life cycle, but the detachment at the point of ‘maturity’, the hollowed out centre and endless shifting on the breath of a breeze is me and this cannot continue.
For a wanderer like me, the idea of being able to adjust and settle and make a home is to be respected, but is it possible? Can a tumbleweed become a silver birch?
~
CLP 04/02/2021
When this wind blows
Things sound different
After the leaves have dropped
To mosaic the floor.
~
This wind bends through the bared boughs
Divides to draughts between the trunks
Blows low notes from the wood
Makes this place an instrument
For mournful tunes
~
When we hear this hollow overture
Howling from beeches and birches
We can be certain winter approaches
~
CLP 27/10/2020