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ecology

Autumn Skies

Walking out today, and the air felt fresh and sharp; twangs of sap from the growth plucked from the oaks, ashes, and chestnuts by Storm Bronagh that passed by a couple days ago. Bronagh may be gone, but she still has straggling gusts chasing at her skirts – making these old trees creak alarmingly, and setting up the jays in the wood.

It’s breezy. Not quite ‘wild’ and not exactly what Britishers might call ‘a good stiff breeze’ but it’s getting there. When I pass by the cul-de-sac of houses, I am met by the thrumming whurr of telephone wires vibrating with the wind.

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And Suddenly…

and suddenly you may fall into a place
populated by strange
gaps,
empty hours filled with the hesitant light of afternoons
or of being caught unawares in conversation, and
startled – like birds,
clear-felled lots, hastily forgotten,
bald hillsides, prone to erosion,
is this a wilderness, or a devastation?
A loss, or a pause?

* * *

nb. And Suddenly is a very old doggerel of terrible Vogon poetry by yours truly. Mental Health by way of ecology, or “writing-with” nature – as inspired by the works of Robert MacFarlane, Gary Snyder, Murray Bookchin (kinda).

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