Three ravens make black bird shapes against gray. The air is so still that I can hear the sky song of feathers as their slow wings beat, flying south. Lower, grasshopper warblers sing through gorse. The sea surface is wrinkled by slight wind, to echo the fins of porpoise rising, and a flock of small waders is trippled, flying so low, each bird mirrored on the sea's surface, each bird shadow following close in a race of reflection, shadow, bird.
I wander. In my head the clock face for Nursery Rhymes takes shape. All that I need, ironicaly, is time. Time to sit and paint. And a peaceful heart.
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Beautiful post.
ReplyDeleteI think you should be writing a book of beautiful prose in addition to painting, which broaches the time subject as well. All you need is a clock that runs backwards!
ReplyDelete(I hope you are saving your blog posts).
Cenya
I don't save them. One of the thins I like about facebook and blogger is that it is a little like writing on teh beach. The tide comes and takes away the words. Each blog post is written on fresh sand. I do have a moleskine diary where I try and write every day. These are beginning to fill a shelf. These are what nobody gets to see. Although this year's diary has too many blank pages.
ReplyDeleteSounds like your imagination is hard at work, Jackie!
ReplyDelete-Dean