Homespun
Yesterday
the evening sky was painted on in broad strokes, so accomplished I could have
stood to applaud, only I was being driven beneath it in a VW Passat. Dreaming
in the passenger side, the hedge flashes past, thoughts keep speed. There’s a
cloud I see so pink and fluffy you could prong it on a fork and toast it in a
fire.
Sleep
well, after all that awe and gawping.
This
morning’s sky is a scene of mountainous cloud peaks. From my seat at the oak
bureaux I am smiling down on lively Friesians, huddling and milling like
children in a gossipy school field. I can see fingers of dead branch on the fat
trunked ash tree, see the hairy ridge of hedges huffle round the fields, see
the flouting billow of treetops, catch the stalking yellow top of corpulent
machinery. Between a square biscuit of ripening crop and the icy cloud summits,
a strip of dark moorland. On the furthest hill, patches of field are stitched
together by bobbled trees.
Comments
You've been awarded a Liebster blog award btw.
http://jblethers.blogspot.com/2012/08/turn-that-frown-upside-down.html
Thank you for the Follow, Mary, likewise I will be visiting your blog on return- I like the huffling hedges too- like enormous caterpillars!
Gustaf- very very true! Eyes open wide is the way to view life :-)