Silver sun played across the sea today, chasing waves with shimmering light. The seagulls whirled and skirled in celebration, dancing in the gentle breeze. Out at sea a gannet dives, black silhouette against the brightness. And above a cloud shares its rainbow, rejoicing in the summer’s eve.
When I was sixteen
We moved to a place
With views of mountains and fields
With estuary and sand dunes
Where you could paddle
Along the narrow inlets
At low tide
And watch the fish dart ahead
Flashes of silver in the sunlight
And feel the flicker of flatfish
Disturbed by your passage
As they skimmed the surface
of the sand
It was not always a safe place
For the tide could turn and rush in
Leaving you in a mad scramble
Towards the shore
Safety
But not for anything
Would I have missed
The touch of the fish
As they tickled my feet
A week spent away in Benderloch, just north of Oban. No email, no internet. Just the sea, the mountains, and the green… bringing back memories of my time near Porthmadog. I was up in Benderloch for Woolfeis, the gaelic wool festival. Great fun, of which more later.
Almost imperceptibly, the garden wakes to greet the rising sun. From the tight clenched night-time bud emerges a new beauty. Slowly, very slowly, one by one, the petals open up. Unfurling in the light. Vulnerable. Hot red radiating out from the core. The sun travels onwards, moving across the garden. There the face of the flower rotates, blossoms under its touch. Centred on the source of light. The heart of life. Until, fully open, it worships with unveiled face.
iggandfriends 