Sweet scent drifts
Heavy in warm air,
Guiding me to where
Orange globes hide
Between green leaves
And starry white flowers.
No, I am not in my own garden today! We are enjoying a few days holiday in Mediterranean sunshine. Just wishing our own lemon tree in the conservatory at home would produce fragrance and fruit in similar abundance.
Exposing your long pink leggy stalks
And lime green frilly leaves
I carry you in my arms
To sugar and stir
Heat till you bubble
And now you stand
Bottled, blushing pink
In plastic bonnets.
Shocking pink plastic
The tulips stand unreal.
I look again
With sunlight’s gaze;
Petals, blotched and holed
Curled and twisted leaves
Sugar edged, distorted.
In colour, shade and shadow
Their imperfection speaks the truth.
Grey clouds break and clear
Brief golden light floods the sky
And silhouettes tall trees.
Cars head for home,
Crows circle treetop nests,
Hidden pigeons call,
Blackbirds twitter under cover
Day turns and moves
Into the dark.
Many thanks to Louise of The Sacred Cave blog for nominating me for the Versatile Blogger Award.
The award was new to me but a great way to promote blogs you find interesting. I certainly enjoy Lousie’s insights and honest observations about her life and her environment. Why not have a look at her blog – I especially enjoyed her recent “Black and white and shades of grey”
I am in the process of adding a blogroll – some links are in place – more to come…. They are a mixture of writing, textiles, spiritual stuff – I’ll leave you to find out which is which!
This week on my writing and spiritual practice course we have been encouraged to look, and look again, – to hear, taste, feel and smell. To pay attention even to the things we gloss over, or avoid, or look away from. Mundane things, or things we would rather not acknowledge.
It reminded me of an object I use everyday, and never really notice. When I did look at it I felt embarrassed by its grubby shabbiness. But careful attention helped me accept it as it is. I see it differently now and had fun celebrating it in a stitch.
Humble “stainless” steel,
Tea stained, scratched, loose lid.
I see a dull reflection of myself,
And notice the pleasing shape of your handle.
The pointed needle pushes through,
Soft yarn wraps round, pulls under, slips off
The loop is formed, a stitch is made.
The simple motion,
In, over, through, and off,
Again, again, again…
The rhythm builds as I repeat,
Fabric grows beneath my fingers.
The e-course “Writing and Spiritual Practice” I am following at the moment referred to “small stones” and “pausing to pay attention” as being like stitches. I had some fun exploring the definition and origin of the word “stitch”. The noun has meanings to do with “a single complete movement formed by a needle with a thread, in sewing or surgery”, and the verb is to do with “fastening, connecting, joining, repairing, making.” I was intrigued by the contrasts of the needle – hard, sharp, pointed, piercing, puncturing, and breaking through. And then the yarn, soft, pliable, bending, flexible, looping, knotting and tieing together. Both are necessary in regular repeated motion to make the connections and build the fabric.
I think I need to keep making the stitches and see what grows!