A warm evening in the Heath. Gossamer bridges between blades of dry grass. The oak above my head alive with the flutter of wings, bird quarrels and terrors. The sun going down behind the line of trees: shadows grow taller and cold. I bike over the hilltop. A green woodpecker , hidden in the grass, takes fright at the approach of two large wheels, and rests on a sunlit tree trunk. Colored fungi grow in secret. Rare happiness: to desire to be nowhere else.
Friday, October 16, 2009
A warm evening in the Heath. Gossamer bridges between blades of dry grass. The oak above my head alive with the flutter of wings, bird quarrels and terrors. The sun going down behind the line of trees: shadows grow taller and cold. I bike over the hilltop. A green woodpecker , hidden in the grass, takes fright at the approach of two large wheels, and rests on a sunlit tree trunk. Colored fungi grow in secret. Rare happiness: to desire to be nowhere else.
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1 comment:
Moments like that give us space to breath, I think.
They make life more tolerable, when we are not, rest of the time, where we would feel like wanted to be nowhere else.
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