Tag Archives: sun

storm

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Provençal Sakura

I always associate the coming of cherry blossoms at the foot of the Luberon with my grand mother’s change of world. To me, she flourishes every spring, and this year, I arrived just in time, for the season is precocious.

Already most fruit trees had shed most blossoms… Only a few quince and cherry trees gave me that joy. The kitchen garden well ahead for April. I landed back at Marseille-Provence in soaring temperatures, thanks to a twist of luck that allowed me to to fly direct from Edinburgh the very morning I left my northern roost.

And what a trek across the sky 🙂

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My favourite mountain, Luberon, so majestic, as we descended into Marseille… Giono’s blue whale so bright and clear by afternoon.

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Marseille, gate to the East and Africa, Massilia-Massalia, founded by Greeks, grown by Romans, with les îles du Frioul and If in the foreground, minutes before landing. La Grande Bleue, plain and magic.

 

I shan’t forget such moments. Always a thrill from my humble seat inside the fuselage. This year, I reconvened with JJ and Monique, whom I had such pleasure sharing with again. JJ fell in love with my poetics and he is very sensitive to artists and poets. As a matter of fact, he invests in art as a benefactor. We shared beautiful conversations and he is becoming to know me much better now. Let’s see what is going to heave out of those moments of sharing. 🙂

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Ten days inside blue could be called a fantastic symphony. I reconvened with Les Huguenots, where life turns out immoveable, but also with relatives and my close friends from Pertuis, Isa and Michel, who hosted me for two days – sheer moments of pleasure.

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Two days with my lifelong friend and her clan, including her grand children. We had lots of fun jam-packed in and around their home. Moments of pleasure.

 

L’orage

Out of ten days, an afternoon tainted by grey and rain, as April strikes in any form. That heat heaved thunder and lightning in one afternoon.  Not surprising as the thermometer had soared a bit too quickly to my taste.

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The air turned more breathable, colours vanished and the whole of the sky blackened to unleash its madness. That palm tree and flowers suddenly yielded to its wrath and felt the weight of freak clocking rain.

It prompted a poem, entitled l’orage / the storm.

 

L’orage

 

En un Ă©clair,

le ciel est devenu métal, nuages de

charbon et d’acier.

Fort de ton flash, ciel

photographe,

tous les oiseaux se sont cachés, entre les fleurs du cognassier.

Sous les tuiles je t’entends gronder,

glisser les gouttes de ta colère sur toutes

les feuilles de l’olivier.

Et sous le poids de ton humeur,

toutes les tulipes se sont courbĂ©es – robes d’or et

de rouge, leurs pétals protègent

le trĂ©sor…

Le vent fait frétiller les palmes toutes luisantes de la pluie;

nettoie ce ciel chargé de cendres,

décharne un peu plus le vieux chêne.

Tu montes le ton et vide

ton sac…

Et maintenant tu t’envenimes et te dĂ©chaĂ®nes!

Son et lumières, tes perles tombent

drues, s’Ă©crasent sur tout

ce qu’elles touchent;

sacageur de bleu provençal, dans la maison

je trouve refuge, et me souviens

du mot  frisqué.

 

The Storm

 

This sky

turned metallic in a flash, with clouds tainted

charcoal and steel.

Fully charged

blitz,

photographer,

all the birds hid between the flowers of the quince.

Under that roof, Provençal tiles,

I hear rebuke land & heat;

let slide raindrops

from your own

wrath on

the

leaves of the olive tree.

Under the weight of your temper,

all tulips bowed to protect

the treasure clad inside gold and red petals.

The wind animates every palm of

the date tree

drumming snipe

style…

And wipes a sky

charged up with ash,

unloads the old oak of dead leaves.

Now, you raise your voice, spill the beans…

Unleash your wrath, torrential

style!

It felt epic, equatorial.

You, Provençal

blue

saboteur,

against my will, I seek shelter, and

remember that word,

frisqué*.

 

© Nat Hall 2017

 

Note:

frisquĂ© (Provençal) meaning “chilly”/ “cold”)

 

 

All in all, nine and half blue days, moments of pleasure, and every time, that same feeling about where I really belong.

My trek back home – to my northern roost – proved even more epic. A story of mechanical failure miraculously took me home A LATER than scheduled, but am back hame, and am happy.

 

 

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tribal

Every first Friday of March, as told by the tide, we gather, united by bond and fire, and we celebrate the return of the sun.

#smuha 2017, from Cunningsburgh, with burning at Mail Beach.

 

SMUHA Community 2017

SMUHA 2017 tribe

SMUHA 2017 Community spirit

viking SMUHA 2017 e-

 

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silence 

In a world full of noise,

Time out.

Silence


Rotation, collision.

Sample the joy of

outer

space.

 

Not

a trickle,

breath from the breeze,

hanging raindrop off

growing leaves;

not

a

single

roar after dawn;

not

a

single

cry from

wild dogs, hyena, cheetah,

hunter’s own –

not

a

morning

sound from the land,

high pitch crossing legs from

hoppers clung to

the meaning of

grassland…


Now 

try harder.


Not

a

sound wave, echo from your

device to

mine;

golden

smiley gone

after nine,

as am explained the rule of

Pi in

a

lesson doused by

north sun;

where

gas & dust glide and

gather,

give

birth to new stars in

cradles, in the

most

natural motion,

cosmic and bright in a

circle.
© Nat Hall 2017


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Feathered

Feathered for a day,


Feathered and proud, on the final Tuesday of January, as eyes of the world turn to a group of young Vikings about to perpetuate a tradition fit for our Nordic latitude.

It is a time when our Junior Jarl Squad shines inside our hall before they stampede through the school and then the town with their elders for a marathon of merriment.

Every year, the island’s sole urban centre sets itself for such day.

As night settles, their replica viking long ships will be torched like a winter bonfire. You can watch live via 60N TV online.

May this summons the return of the sun 🙂

Happy Lerwick Up-Helly-Aa!

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showtime

more than a hope, a miracle!

Woke up in rain, and went to school as a normal end of a week… And as I sat by the window, clouds broke at the exact moment! So we witnessed a spectacle of moon & sun at the end of the first period, Social Subject… The atmosphere was electric.



Pupils & staff from the AHS witnessed something really special behind windows filled with salt spray!



98% of eclipse.   It darkened up for a short while 🙂 

And now, just business as normal.



Welcome to spring, everybody – eclipse & Vernal Equinox… What a doublĂ© 🙂

What a magic celestial show! 

Tour de Force

I did not want to believe it.

Blue

tossed a sky doomed

with dark clouds

tangled in 

rain &

Equinox. 

Blue 

celestial, 

sweet twist of fate,

where 

we wander 

inside a game of

moon & sun,

behind 

glass 

filled with 

fowl spitting waterworld, air

charged with sun-kissed particles

glued against panes,

buds of ocean

to remind us

where we

belong;

all 

went

quiet round

Bressay Sound –

sparrows and gulls

silenced by

shade,

might of

the 

tiny 

satellite. 

Day 

against night,

eerie,

ethereal,

   beautiful.

© Nat Hall 2015 

——— Lerwick, 20 March 2015,

Day of solar eclipse & Equinox 🙂  

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60N song

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For the very first time in days, I woke to a very calm sky, as opposed to this winter’s madness of gales, that make you feel inside a washer’s tumbler in full spin… Such trivial detail counts so much for any northern islander who’s grown accustomed to particular weather the Atlantic has generated since last December.
My sunrise over the Bressay Sound looked so promising (as pictured above). Since 9 o’clock, the classroom’s window is ajar, as springlike Friday is shining.
Two senior pupils hard at work, as starlings fill blue sky.

This prompted me very short verse,

60N Song

Today I woke to
silent sky.

There’s nothing else to talk
about,
but starlings
singing inside.sun,
incessant serenade tricksters
that click like Bushmen
in their tongue –
endless arguments from
proud gulls,
February,
pale morning blue.

© Nat Hall 2014

All is serene on 60N 🙂

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