Tuesday, 5 March 2013

A Journey Up



In the bank of the river the roots of a fallen tree: sickly pale, lumpy metatarsals, poke out and shiver. The tree is further down, flood dumped and gathering its own beach. I climb where birds have nested and watch out over the water. Sun plays in the eddies: some look friendly and some deceiving. Daffodils on the path are budded; a warm spring smell of earth, onion, water and a hint of baked dung; see how the light makes a flowing jewel of the river: I follow the path through the odorous ramson leaves, over tunnel mazes where badgers mark their territories with gleaming coils of excrement: amazing what there is to marvel the senses here. All the way up the loose steep path, to see the river shining like cut citrine quartz.



4 comments:

  1. love the photos and the imagery of your words :)
    Nutschell
    www.thewritingnut.com

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  2. Beautiful. With the exception of baked dung, which I lately equate with identity thieves, our posts are closely related --but yours, as pleasantly usual, looks lovelier on the page. Thank you for providing this calm and moving reflection to a presently jumpy American mind!

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  3. Thank you Nutschell :-)
    Happy to be the bringer of calm, Geo- hope you get the theft redressed!

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  4. My heart goes out to you and Geo.

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