I began these words the last time we were here - when bog cotton and heather were abundant. I have played with them in the intervening times, and brought them with me again to see if I could complete the thoughts and these feelings, when I was in situ.
They are still draft, but closer to final than beginning.
Here to there, it’s time already
What shall I take with me now as I go?
I’ll fetch the flight of those wee brown birds,
and joyously sing it home in my hat;
I’ll pick bog cotton’s whimsy fleece,
and stitch it within the hem of my sleeve;
I’ll catch wee lochans gliding by,
and weave their shimmering into my scarf;
I’ll hold the light, the light, the light…
and thread it delicately though my slip;
I’ll look slowly on morning walks,
and keep the slowness tucked into my boots;
and
I’ll pluck the tiny, shy, heather
and happily hum it home in my heart.
take here there
Time here always makes me think and consider, to seek to understand why and how this landscape speaks to me. How and why does this feel like home?
I will continue to think and write and make work that helps me understand…
I found myself breathing lightly as I read this ... lest the wisps of it fly away
ReplyDeleteThat is a lovely thing to imagine Liz - thank you!
DeleteF - these words catch so many delicate moments of beauty, connection and place. B
ReplyDeleteThanks B - catching the connection is so very tricky to put into words...
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