Cryptic

The geopoetician who animates my heart, hand and pen never ceases to realise moments in time are held in snowflakes or in dew…

I am continuing to network with kindred spirits whilst the spirit of Ms Crusoe wanders along on an island that sings life through seasons.

April rhymes with freedom, this enchanting earth song elevated through the cacophony of birds – curlews, blackbirds, wrens, starlings (the greatest feathery imitators at 60N!) golden plovers… Skylarks and our everlasting chattering sparrows. 

April is the return of the mind-blowing light that overrides wir mørkin (darkness) now we are back in BST.  I noticed dusk and twilight are flirting later to my great delight. To the poet, it colours my sense of bliss. And I can only pray Father Sky’s clemency increases as we now walk more confidently towards Beltane.

April allows my child within to reconnect with the now and here.

Today again, I experienced stillness capsules that are tattooed in my heart forever. I watched raingjus glide on water, a pied wagtail tiptoeing on the edge of a burn… I listened to whistling swallows and wigeons. Spring in its glory as daffodils bowed to the fresh South Westerlies…

There is no doubt we are swinging towards summer.

And yet, Father Sky seems to lose sight of the moment. As if he was blending winter and spring a little longer…

On the night of the great eclipse on the other side of the Atlantic, I watched a sky blending colours as I had not seen in moons… A real sunset (pictured above) and prayed we might marvel once more at wir Mirrie Dancers (Aurora Borealis) before May steals them till August.

There are still a few days left till I return to the indoors world…

Mind you, when the last bell rings, I will not linger much inside. 😊

However, let’s keep our bubble of now the most important one, as tomorrow does NOT exist!

Poetics never leaves my heart.