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Saturday, 4 May 2013

Days on the Long Mynd : too few of them.


Me
supine
beneath a single pine
I make believe its branches
are a forest canopy
look heavenward ---
where I was taught to look for heaven.

White clouds drift by.
(could they be clouds
on which the angels sit?)
No, not a sound of any sort...
The wind is kicking up.
Dust clouds stir.
Sand storms threatening...

Flying Things Hill.
(I idly dream up names for it.)
Every sort of flying thing is here
(barring angels, I'm afraid):
gnats. midges. birds and bees.
Butterflies (the green
hair streak,
for one) and ants.

An unidentified F.O... I have
just seen the first Wright
Brothers' version of a dragon fly...
You laugh, my friend? All things
are possible up here. This hill was put
together in the Southern Hemisphere --
The Falkland Islands' latitude, in fact.

PreCambrian is this, survivor of
the global ice age, and of flooding by
a shallow Cambrian sea, to share in
that time's burgeoning new life,
transported here by Tecto Couriers. Com
to fill this Shropshire space with its white
sand, its trilobites and pebbles from its beach.

Above the canopy, above the heads
of angels and other flying things:
a Jumbo jet, much smaller than a bee,
and yet its baneful spray,
invisible to you and me,
affects the lesser flying things
and us -- incalculably!

If it was black, the rain
that falls from it, and not invisible
I doubt we ever would
have sanctioned it. I turn my head,
cheek into heather,
spiked by bits of gorse,
and catch my breath again:

the sun-fired purples make you think
the whole heath is alight.
Beyond the virtual flames
a glider station; sail planes
flying off the ridge.
A stone chat lands nearby,
looks round at me, takes in the view,

then follows two hang gliders out
into the empty space, exploring with them
the Long Mynd's wild extremes.
I turn my head the other way:
children flying kites. Time now
to head for home below the ridge
to glass and concrete cliffs

and concrete trees, their cables
little more in evening light
than first attempts by a small child
at ruling pencil lines. We leave
the whinberries (bilberries
if you are not a local) and six-
-teen Bronze Age burial mounds

to inch our way along the single track
of loose sand, packed with cars,
to marvel at the sudden blaze
of fiery red the sun now gives
the scene. a blaze that puts
the once-bright hues of sailplanes
firmly in the shade.



The image is made available under the Creative Commons Attribution Share-alike License. The copyright holder is Sean Hattersley

Apologies for my unannounced absence, due, I am afraid to a health hiccup.(My previous post proved all too prophetic!)

13 comments:

kaykuala said...

Wonderful to be where the action is though still with the peace and quiet.Flying Things Hill is appropriately named with all things flying around it. Great take Dave!

Hank

Mary said...

I missed your posts for the last couple days. Hope you are doing better.....

I enjoyed the visuals in this poem. The white clouds drifting (I'd like to think there ARE angels there). And yes all things are possible there & indeed so many things to see. And all connected...somehow!

Be well!

Claudia said...

the dream of flying... i wish i could without needing a plane or something to carry me..just spread arms...smiles..wonderful visuals here dave..

Brian Miller said...

hey man...missed you this week...hope those health problems are all behind you...makes me think of hte woods out back my uncles house...all things were possible there for me as a child..so many fun adventures...and the cliffs at my grammas too...i def can relate as well to the desire to fly...i always wanted to...like a bird....

David Cranmer said...

Hope you are on the way to a full recovery, Dave.

Ygraine said...

I do so hope you are feeling better now, Dave.

Oh what a wonderfully vivid poem!
The detail is truly amazing. I was immediately transported onto that hill...felt the wind in my face...heard the sounds of birdsong, bees and jumbo jet.
In fact, I will mentally linger here for some time to come I think!

Optimistic Existentialist said...

I would like to fly but I am afraid of heights so that prevents me :)

Tommaso Gervasutti said...

...by the way I find the expression "health hiccup" absolutely fantastic. All my best wishes for no more, or for only friendly, health hiccups.

This latest poem has such marvellous airy flowing and the stream of consciousness of an interior monologue..with words swarming in delight.

NatureFootstep said...

Great scenery. :) Thanks for visiting NatureFootstep

manicddaily said...

Very cool, Dave - the movement of light here --the sense of you alone looking up and then you get in the line of cars and we are back in the modern world. But wonderful to have this sense of light on the heath and then blazing in the sky. k.

hedgewitch said...

I love the naming with child's names, and the trilobytes, and the sense of past and present tangled together, life complex and yet simple from the right angle...beautiful musings. So sorry to hear you've not been well--hope you are on the mend.

haricot said...

Your description made my thought fly beyond the trees and to around the clouds.
It's comfortable to read these lines even though there are some difficulties of words. Thank you and take care of yourself.

Dave King said...

Hi All
and many thanks both for your valuable comments and you kind wishes fir my health. I am certainly much improved from a week ago, but have quite a wait now before I can get to see the main man, so meanwhile it's fingers crossed and d what I can. Thanks once more, your thoughts really are much appreciated.