Under the parched grey coal
the red glow dulls.
The ash settles softly,
a quiet inward collapse
like the gentling of your face
on the pillow, as you fall
deeper into sleep
One of the inspirations for this piece was a blog post from Rima at The Hermitage called Atching Tan, which dealt with the life of travelling people. It will, I hope, become part of what I hope will be a long sequence of 'elemental' poems for The Territory of Rain. I thought originally it might be all about our attitudes to the environment, but now it's become much more about life and death and love (especially death, apparently), and includes metamorphoses,and stone circles and the rather under-rated Celtic figure of the Cailleach. It's fascinating, but it's awful slow.
There may be fewer photos for a bit. My camera is having an attack of temperament, and all the pictures are coming out streaky and full of pink irrelevance. But I've dug the vegetable patch and pruned the roses, and there are crocuses and snowdrops in full bloom, and daffodils and tulips thinking about what happens next. All the geese are heading north and there are more ducks than ever on the river. I'll try to have a substitute camera organised for next week.
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