Reflections from my morning walk

There is something about this woodland spot. This unlovely wooden bridge across the river Chor. I stop here often, as now. 

Reflections from a soggy Wednesday morning

Although the rain has stopped it is still too wet and cool to spend much time outside. I breakfast in the conservatory; light some incense, take some tea and eat overnight oats.

Trees — the ultimate not-for-profit entity?

When you look at a tree —perhaps you are walking in the woods— what is it you see?

Passing thought …

I no longer call this meditation. Sitting here out in the arbor at the end of the garden.

Poet Spotlight — Czeslaw Milosz

The latest in an occasional series of features spotlighting my favourite poets and-or poems.

From time to time I may claim lots of poets to be my favourite poet. But the one I most consistently hail as my favourite is … Czeslaw Milosz (Lithuanian-born, Polish native).

Peevish

Peevishness. When did we all get to be so collectively peevish. And I do mean all of us. It genuinely seems to be a global phenomena.

Activity update

Last weekend was the wedding of my youngest son. It took place in a stunning woodland clearing in Scotland. The whole day (weekend, even) was so beautiful and emotional that … frankly it has left me drained.

I have so many memories and inspirations and derivations from the whole time, butI cannot find yet the energy to write.

It will come in time.

For the moment I am enjoying the now … and flowing-on.

Peace 🙏

The liars are winning …

Over this lifetime I’ve been disabused of many views. Beliefs I once held inviolate have been challenged and toppled … yes, this IS just another bleating rant, sorry. I need to let off steam from time to time.

Poet Spotlight — Julia Vinograd

I thought I’d do an occasional feature spotlighting some of my favourite poets and-or poems. Here I spotlight Julia Vinograd — very probably my favourite poet ever.

No need to read …

When I’m down —working through life’s stuff—I need to write; even though what I write may make no sense, still the stream needs to flow to paper. As electricity to earth. This is such a piece. I don’t expect it to be read. Readers may move along now.