Transmutational Meditations
Somehow over Dartmoor there seems to be more sky: more
headspace. It's the perfect place for freethinking wanderers. The ground is
bogged, so land level observation is required except when the boots strike
granite. It's rare indeed to sink in granite. Astride the Tor top rock eyes
lift to see how clouds pattern.
How fleeting it appears; how easily dark and light can shift. Yes, I suppose
the lesson is just this.
Refreshed by literally lofty thought, feet follow spindly trails through low
gorse. As though an old grass tussock there transmutes, a bird suddenly exists
and flies. A mouth, awed, forms an Oh.
And while this distraction leaves a sharp impression of fine beige feathers,
the eyes swoop further, inspired, vaguely aware of a person paused up on an
outcrop; standing somewhat short of stature, rotund in a white puffer jacket.
Oh!
The person shifts, reveals four legs: is
actually a sheep.
Comments
I found some spawn (frog, toad or newt I'm not sure) in a little moorland stream: from jelly dot to amphibian, another fabulous transmute! Happy nearly Spring :-)
'I am still here and still mud, but all full of footprints and deep, deep holes and tracks and traces and changes. I have been changed. You change me. Do not take me for granite.'
Love it :-)
[Granite is my favourite rock, but I get to see it when it is fabulously weathered xx]