Millington Wood in Winter
Pale winter
sucks the colour from the landscape
As if
the earth’s own life-blood has been drained away,
Leaving
the recumbent, rolling giant of the hills
In somnolent,
semi-conscious immobility.
The
weak and wanly-shining sun,
Whenever
it might deign to show its sullen face
From
behind the lace of curtain-clouds,
Discloses
secret folds and long-forgotten barrows,
Otherwise
unseen when lit by harsher rays.
But in
the wood, a new and startling sight prevails,
For
leafless trees allow the light to permeate unchecked,
Disclosing
an exuberant display of tantalising tones.
Here
colours that seemed subdued in summer
Stand
out in sudden contrast to the subtler shades.
Bright-green
socks of moss adorn the feet of ash and beech,
And
from a living trunk, rich chestnut-coloured fungi sprout,
Nourished
in the furrowed bark.
Then,
over all, a solitary blackbird’s call
Spreads
a thinly-beaten, shining silver sheet of sound,
Unmuffled,
now, by dampening leaves.
7 comments:
And what of our old guide of ways arcane and spiritual, Alfred Watkins? Yes, he of the Woolhope Naturalists' Field Club, who trod the way that many mesmerically followed, including my sadly missed pal, John Michel. (Many a rainy night I spent in his extraordinary little 4th floor library at Powys Terrace in Notting Hill, talking of many things till the early hours, Jung's theory of the 'collective consciousness', Reich's experiments with 'orgone energy' and the migrational spirit in all living things...). Talking of which, I feel the migrational urge to see you. Soon.
Then I must be Visitor 501.
(Does that entitle me to a free pair of Levi jeans?)
Yes, of course. It was you who introduced me to Michel's books and a wealth of possibilities that I've been exploring ever since. Come up here and walk in the Wolds with us, feel the power of Britain's tallest single standing stone and see the places Hockney paints.
Funny you should mention Hockney - I saw this picture in the Guardian and thought how it chimed in with your line about "pale winter sucks the colour from the landscape".
http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/picture/2013/jan/29/eyewitness-woldgate-east-yorkshire?INTCMP=SRCH
Nice sketch, I haven't seen that one before. I have mixed feelings about Woldgate - when I was at Bridlington School and the weather was too bad for rugby, we had to go cross-country running up Woldgate, which I hated.
"shining silver sheet of sound" is a great a piece alliteration with both sounds interposed as they are. Nice one.
BM
That's what it sounded like amongst the bare trees, echoing off the sides of the valley.
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