Waxing Lyrical - Poems from July and August 2010

Waxing Lyrical 1: Homage to sheep, stones, solitariness and standing still

Sheep are like Stones….except that the latter do not move.

‘Twixt sunrise and sunset one can meditate whilst observing herbivores grazing on the grass in fields and one thinks that their movement is imperceptible. 

Let one’s mind drift, look away or dream, and look again and one becomes aware that they have all changed places, surreptitiously.  However, if sheep feel threatened or intimidated by a clap of the hands for example they bleat furiously and run together.

Eating machines are what sheep are… unlike stones in walls and stones in fields, that existing since creation, perhaps have not moved far from their original place over thousands, nay million, billions, trillions of years.

A sheep born as a humble lamb soon learns to get on its feet to avoid danger, to dance and skip and move on to eat.

Does luck come into it if it should it be killed as a lamb or as mutton?

I climb upon the wall, the dry stone wall, over one metre high.

I could not have done this five years ago!  

How wonderful to have such a commanding view over sheep and stones.

I am as strong as this blade of grass… oh drat, it has bent a few centimetres from my thumb.   Breaking it off again it stands tall and strong again.  I will not weaken as before, I say!

I stand in this seemingly special place that I have learned…yes, learned to love, 
this wilderness where one hardly ever sees a soul except of the woolly variety.  

I have been back in France for less than 24 hours. 
It is now twilight as I overlook the barren sprawl of countryside, the trees … and SHEEP .. or are they STONES?

I stand up high on this stone wall with a view, up and down the lane before me. Behind me in another field are more sheep and their friendly pony and beyond to the west are layers of sunset rays, amidst blue, blue skies and streaking, fluffy-white clouds.

Oh magic, marvellous moment to remember,  an exquisitely warm evening, cities far away as I stand here solitary in wild, deserted countryside not a soul to be seen, save sheep and stones.… all alone … and all alone in a beloved France, with beloved England far away, as all souls are always all alone.

 

Ep  9th July 2010   

VDV - knowing that time stands not still and brings changes that cannot be fought against.

Waxing Lyrical 2: Homage to a river, acceptance and stillness

In the August shade I sit solitary against a tree trunk.

Summer into Autumn, roots bare and brown, 
writhe like snakes upon solid brown earth on L' Isle de L’Anglin.

When Winter comes these tree roots will be submerged beneath surging waters.

But for now, Tall poplars, leaves mirrored in a looking glass 

create a meditational water garden wavering constantly and continuously.

Diamonds grow like deep, dark glossy jewels on the water surface 
as ripples meet ripples, to and fro, from bank to bank.

Lilypads on the quieter side of this isle invite demoiselles and dragonflies to flit in a different garden of delight.

Willow weeps and wails, whilst a dozen ducks without drakes form a flotilla floating downstream.

Quiet voices, peaceful movement, disturb a potential silence; tranquillity as people prepare for a fête.

Ep August 2010  

AsA - knowing that acceptance is a wonderful thing and can create a different kind of stillness.