Witness

2017-02-26 17.54.36.jpg

Sometimes the mountain
is hidden from me in veils
of cloud, sometimes
I am hidden from the mountain
in veils of inattention, apathy, fatigue,
when I forget or refuse to go
down to the shore or a few yards
up the road, on a clear day,
to reconfirm
that witnessing presence.

Denise Levertov

The aftermath of Storm Doris (who seems to have enjoyed a second coming) has left our fells and mountains veiled.

And I might as well have been swimming when I returned from my walk. Beneath the layers, even my inside pockets had been given a soaking.

And there has been the sort of constant-attendant greyness that, coupled with irritation about the rain keeping one indoors has had the potential for getting under the skin.

(Oh, the perversity! – in one who is perfectly happy at the library desk!).

But the rooms of our home are presently housing assorted glass vases of Cornish daffodils – and no matter their size or shape, all appear to me to be smiling and nodding.

So it’s been up to me really. Be grumpy about the grey veils and ‘having to’ stay close to the warming hearth. Or look around me once in a while, recognising the festal presence of yellow and gold – and a million other life forms …

and witness.

Watchful earthing

Photo at Pixabay

my old monkey mind

I watch him at this dawn hour – already
skipping around between synapses with
boyish enthusiasm, hampered by marked
lack of focus, though the diffusion of
the neurotransmitters across which his
impulses pass at the junction between
two nerve cells models perfect precision

Never skipping a beat, the intention
in direction is mapping the past and
planning the future, electrical charge
that needs watchful earthing in being and
in quietly focused attention – not
mere reaction – for highest fulfilment
at this dawn of my day and come what may

SRM

Silent witness

frost
Photo at 2CRG

A robin hops surefooted between shards. I wheeze for a second or two as warm lungs adjust to the sharp, crisp morning air. Maybe the openness here affords Jack Frost freedom to freeze whatever he wills. Stilled berries, fenceposts, grasses and trees twinkle in silence and invite my camera’s attention.