Rowan unfurls

April 5, 2017


brightening but chilly



tight hips

enjoying the swing of walking and fresh air



sat on the big Footpath > stone and drew the  rhythmic lines of  the dry stone walls, dark against vivid green fields

cars drone along the road out of sight - I imagine them like beads on a necklace threading along behind each other

breezes play through dry branches - no leaves to whisper yet

remembered to look at the buds with flowers inside the leaves. Rowan. Last year I made horrible cordial with the flowers. The first pony I rode was called Rowan, on holiday in Wales. And the farm lady used to pick ticks off the jack russell while she chatted. 



I was a dead rabbit in the road being picked at by crows. I felt hollowed out by the image.

Now I am better. I can meet it.




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Rowan unfurls

April 5, 2017

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