The dverse prompt is to write an ekphrastic poem based on a painting by Fay Collins. I have chosen this one Grasses at Ennerdale.
There’s peace in the grasses, deep rooted in shallows that mirror the sky and the roof of the world, where water and meadow meet at the wild fallow’s edge, green tossed with yellow with clover pink curled.
I sit with the light, among shed plumes and plundered, as hues metamorphose from dove-grey to red, as mists fill the sky with clouds billowed and thundered, clear lake water washes our sorrows all fled.
Tis the season, so here’s a festive decoration from outside the barn door
and one from inside the barn door in the kitchen
House hunkers down. The folk that pad and trot around its walls the night have gone. Only the birds, ever-hungry, ever-cheerful chatter, fluttering from tree to tree and into the porch after seed and other necessities. A deer family ambles through the willows by the stream. Dawn sun streams gold, a glimpse of heaven before its flow slows and ceases. Cloud thickens.
days slip deeper into the heart of the cold east wind sighs winter
I have two daughters in Italy at the moment, one in Milan, the other in Naples. The one in Naples will be back soon, the other will be back for Christmas, but perhaps not to stay. I haven’t felt so happy in ages.
Life if you take your eyes off it, just for a moment, takes wing, flies, like nestlings, leaves on jet plane or some other form of locomotion, soars unaided, taking memories of the closeness, the warm breath of home, arms enfolding, hands holding, and suddenly, a shared part of the world is a shade cooler, a place in the nest half-empty, where it once throbbed with young life.