Friday, April 15, 2005

Morning thoughts in ancient oakwoods

This poem was written during an autumn environmental workshop weekend in 1997 up on the west coast of Scotland at a place called Barmeddy, near Loch Awe. We had been taken out into the woods before dawn and left in solitude for about half and hour - to enjoy the sensations of the world at dawn! I don't know what the other people did but I composed this. It was among one of my first attempts at poetry since I was a child.

The first ray of sunshine
clouds up above
blue cram and pink
soon covered up by light grey

The tree tops are moving
the wind must be there
They are bowing their heads
to the spirit of the Air.

Cool, calm, fresh. clean,
Green, yellow, brown
Grey, blue and cream
the colours of the morning
It isn't a dream.

I shall be adding other poems to this site soon, please send a comment if you like the poetry.


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