31.1.10

First Audio Poem on Heart of Balance-Low Millerground

Listen!


LOW MILLERGROUND


 The shores of Windermere-LowMillerground.
I lived there nearly five years and loved
the way the sun painted Langdale’s peaks with fire.
The way the lake held it’s breath at night.
The way the night-boats crawled on her to fish
for arctic char, like lice with lanterns lit.
The way, on moonless nights the dark became
almost a weight, that pressed against your face.
The hooting of the owls-little and shriek.
The trees budding in the beam beneath
riots of ramsons and wood anemone.
The beck tumbling to the old stone bridge
like a story from a country myth.
All of this was grist, and ground it was!

2 comments:

  1. You make me miss a place I used to love and now can't get to.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm sorry if it creates sadness for you...tell me more-if you want...

    ReplyDelete