Most days I walk my dog. He’s the one that sniffs I’m the one that sees. I look at the same things everyday, trees, sky, clouds, kites, mountains, moorland and sheep. I’ve become very close to nature since I moved to Wales. I live nine hundred feet up and it’s wild and empty in a liberating way.
I love this by Basho:
“Go to the pine if you want to learn about the pine tree
to the bamboo if you want to learn about the bamboo.”
and this by Jane Hirshfield:
“Human beings are not the centre, but coexistent with the rest of being.”
Most days I write or edit. I go back to look at an object again and again. If I can be objective something fresh can emerge. Usually it’s in front of me. My garden is a good example. I see things in the garden that once I was indifferent to.
autumn garden
awake
to your fragrant grass
shadows of light
on mountain ash
pyracantha in red bud
chestnut burning gold
I too tilt my head
toward the morning sun
winter garden
final leaves
on garden grass
frozen flowers
dying gorse
chestnut in sticky bud
hawthorn lichen moss
space now to see beyond
Eager to write about spring, but I’ll have to wait.
spring gone
long wait
for the cuckoo’s song
Karen Shoji Robbie