Wednesday, October 22, 2014

Geese seen from Borrowdale

This cool autumn morning, the white painted walls of this farmhouse seem to be sinking into the rich soil, weighed down by three centuries of human stories and   by an invitation to be still beside the mirror like water of this beck winding between shoals of pebbles.

The sun has cut the mountains into sharp patterns and the shadows suggest a breathing landscape. Against the pale bright blue sky suddenly breaking the silence, a skein of geese so high in the sky that they are like a  pencil line drawn on virgin paper.I think of an invisible hand sketching them them as they cross my vision, this conceit seems satisfying.  Their wild  echo around the open hands of the valley reminding me of my smallness against the extravagant extent of their flying formation flung across empty sky.
 Even through they are an interruption to the clearness of the sky they add to its wildness and emptiness. Surrounding cultivation and earth bound walkers is a wildness which these exultant geese define for me a visitor, a transient in this place but generally in life

I am suddenly more energized and the weight of sleep seems to slide from my shoulders bleary eyes clear again. These geese cross my vision like the blink of a great eye.

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