Tag: autumn colours

Slow Time – Assorted Ragpickings and Footfalls

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Conflux of cobbles

Walking against

Autumn’s wake

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Deep           Time

Shore           Line

F r e s c o

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a scattering of jewels

criss-cross streams

of early morning light

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drifting

at the edges

meaning, slipping

away

from the words

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Godot Tree

Waiting

For leaves

To fall

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ksroad

Autumn morning / City pastoral

(King’s Stables Road, Edinburgh. Horse and cattle markets were held weekly in this road from 1477 until 1911)

 

cobbles

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Underfoot

the spaces in between

One cracked cobble

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“Several whales have come in upon this coast

Anno 1652, one, eighty feet in length”

Moby Dick (Supplied by a Sub-Sub-Librarian) – on the Fife coast.

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No still life:

Foraging wasps, drunk

on autumnal colour

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Always good to head for a higher perspective. On the way, counsel from the elephant wood shaman.

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Towards the brow of the hill:

a wind blown tree;

an apparition,

forming in the sky

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Always the tracks

of footfall

beyond the now

of time

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Frost already underfoot/ A smothering of darkness/ Celestial lights & the eerie glow of the petrochemical plant/ A heron stalks the shadows

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Now Playing: Robin Hayward – Stop Time (favourite piece of music of the year).

The Eternal Return of Autumn

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The eternal return

of the    ephemeral

autumn         ballet

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At no other time (than autumn) does the earth let itself be inhaled in one smell, the ripe earth; in a smell that is in no way inferior to the smell of the sea, bitter where it borders on taste, and more honeysweet where you feel it touching the first sounds. Containing depth within itself, darkness, something of the grave almost

Rainer Maria Rilke

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all                  around

a shedding of leaves

my          green cloak

growing        heavier

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I notice that Autumn is more the season of the soul than of nature

Friedrich Nietzsche

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Even decay is a form of transformation into other living things, part of the great rampage of becoming that is also unbecoming

Rebecca Solnit

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almost                        dark

listen                      –  in(g)

to the huddled whispers

of the forest              flock

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autumnal         portal

a suggestion of russet

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Above the roof of Ian Hamilton Finlay’s ‘Temple of Apollo’ at Jupiter Artland

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Flooding the fissures

of     the stone house

Liquid                 light

rippling            the air

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(Redux) When natural cycles turn, brutalist windows can dream of (autumn) trees…

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Now playing: Laura Cannell – ‘Born from the Soil’ from Beneath Swooping Talons.