“Please, then, give me wings like the bonny black birds of the fells. I would go where the ravens rattle the mahogany beads of their voice, wing-tip dipping the ink-pots of the high tarns”
Stunning and magical. Oh yes,wings please, that is, as long as I can keep the rest of my human form intact. Would not want to end up inside a fable. Written as a cautionary tale, with a moral to the story; careful what you wish for. I would be happy to do a search for an insurance policy in the U.S. that might cover with a prior authorization from a reputable wizard. What’s that you say? You have no intention to move to America, even if you could have gill surgery? Yeah, at the moment, I don’t blame you.
Thank you David for your inspiringwords, and the little humourous twist of Clause 14b....
Memory walls are weakening, I've forgotten Clause 14b, as I shed layers of skin, grow feathered and furred, untuck my wings and fly out of the skeleton that's been my prison.
This is stunning, David. So much poetry. Actually the whole thing is poetry. This, "There, where the big trout lies the summer long, I'll press my flank to the weight of her. She will pass over me like a shiver." I was in the water, I was the water, I was the fish. Thank you for this.
Love the creativity, magical thinking, and desire to become even more connected to nature. Yes please.... me too... I am over here TRYING to whistle in response to the mockingjays call. thank you David for a delightful read.
Dear David, I hear talk of a gnarly old gentleman who lives in a half ruin buried in a forest, not here on my hill but that which faces me to the south, it is said he has a power, a shapeshifting power which might be of interest to you. Perhaps, if your insurance is unobliging he may entertain a person as magical of mind as you, teach you his secrets... I have not had the pleasure of meeting this shaman - or perhaps I have? - and I must warn you, his dogs are rather unpleasant but perhaps a letter, of the hand written kind of course, no modern conveniences reach his abode, would suffice as introduction.... do let me know.
If in the meantime you find an alternative would you be so kind as to advise of where or how I might grow my own longed for wings...
Heavens, Susie, did I miss replying to you here? I had thought of what I was going to say while out early but maybe it never made it tot he keyboard. I was going to quip that like the waiter's advice to the customer announcing that he had a fly in his soup, you should 'keep your voice down or everyone will want one ' (a gnarly old gentleman in a half ruin). Well, it wasn't worth waiting a week for. My jokes aren't worth waiting for at all! Bu there you are. See you soon :-)
I run my fingers along the lines of my jaw, to the softness behind and below my ear, imagining cartilaginous contraptions installed there with their hard outer flaps and the soft filigree folds. I feel the water’s shiver and taste the salt.
I stretch my hand back over my shoulder and press my fingers into my flesh to feel the hard bone of my little half formed wings and dream of scrawling calligraphy on the vellum sky.
I am transported with magic woven through your words, David. Utterly breathtaking ✨
oh, David, how you weave the longing of humans (well, the ones paying attention) to be in deep communion with the magic of other beings so much so that we desire their innate form. how i've wanted to fly like a bird, swim with the ease of a fish, flow like a river... i do think i shall rip up the contract and work on shapeshifting.
Dear anne, you put it so beautifully. 'so much so that we desire their innate form'. When I was young and learnt about tawny owls, learnt about their ability to construct a world via sound, their soft feathers - and then heard them, I was besotted. A friend of my father took me to see one in a wood where he had a fair idea of its territory and favourite perches and roosts. And see her we did. On the way back home he was confused as to why I was so glum. Eventually he coaxed it out of me. I said 'I'm very grateful to have seen an owl. It was wonderful. But that wasn't really what I wanted. I want so much to BE an owl'. :-)
Despite Clause 14b, you regularly perform your own transformation procedures. You who possess these vast gifts of imagination and incantation walk your own path of apprenticeship to the wild, able to feel your way into any being, I am convinced. Thank you for your creaturely revelations and for "forming the words." xo
There you are, Carmine. Mighty oak. I was just talking to a little apprentice oak down in the bottom field, two foot high and grown from a rare old native of mid-Wales. The Welsh are at home here, of course, having owned the place just yesterday, only 12 centuries ago. You've been quiet. Quiet is a balm in this noisy world. An oak should be quiet when it wishes. And I'm sure something lovely is brewing under the lid of that pressure cooker of current events. When its time comes :-)
An oak is resistant to hurrying, but this quiet has stretched longer than wanted! The pressure cooker is a hindrance. Yet, after some blighted attempts, one small emerging branch shows signs of promise. x
Hi India. It was a bit of luck, the ghost tree in the reflection. The river is unseasonably low at the moment. When I see the dry whitening rocks at the side I always recall your evocation of drought a few months back, and shudder.
Thanks, Leslie. I see the language is rubbing off on you. A very Gaelic feel to the construction 'beauty of a piece'. But then, how could it be otherwise, you living in the shadow of those mountains as you do :-)
I read this with such joy, and appreciation for the impish humor that peeks out. That dratted Clause 14b! When I was a child, I wanted to fly. I still have flying dreams and meditations occasionally. But I think if I could shapeshift, my first choice would be to grow a throat and bone structure that would enable me to make those gorgeous, trilling birdsongs that so entrance me. But! Clause 14b! At least it granted me the proper ears to hear the songs, that’s some comfort.
“Please, then, give me wings like the bonny black birds of the fells. I would go where the ravens rattle the mahogany beads of their voice, wing-tip dipping the ink-pots of the high tarns”
Stunning and magical. Oh yes,wings please, that is, as long as I can keep the rest of my human form intact. Would not want to end up inside a fable. Written as a cautionary tale, with a moral to the story; careful what you wish for. I would be happy to do a search for an insurance policy in the U.S. that might cover with a prior authorization from a reputable wizard. What’s that you say? You have no intention to move to America, even if you could have gill surgery? Yeah, at the moment, I don’t blame you.
Hi Lor. Ach, America is fine and beautiful and in my dreams. But you'd need a big crowbar to winkle me out of this little valley :-)
Thank you David for your inspiringwords, and the little humourous twist of Clause 14b....
Memory walls are weakening, I've forgotten Clause 14b, as I shed layers of skin, grow feathered and furred, untuck my wings and fly out of the skeleton that's been my prison.
Quite right, Alma. Clause 14b was made to be forgotten :-)
Beautiful and eloquently read, you always manage to say what I often feel but can’t describe. Thank you David.
Thank you. That is kind. Holding snowflakes without melting them was always a dream of mine :-)
This is stunning, David. So much poetry. Actually the whole thing is poetry. This, "There, where the big trout lies the summer long, I'll press my flank to the weight of her. She will pass over me like a shiver." I was in the water, I was the water, I was the fish. Thank you for this.
Thank you for reading, Jocelyn. A cold swimmer. Hmm. I was preaching to the converted :-)
You absolutely were. Oh to swim with a trout. What joy that would be. Though the little fishes in my local creek are quite something as well.
Love the creativity, magical thinking, and desire to become even more connected to nature. Yes please.... me too... I am over here TRYING to whistle in response to the mockingjays call. thank you David for a delightful read.
Thanks, Katherine, that is kind of you. The birds will be wondering, deciphering the new code :-)
Thank you, David. To write the world as you do would be just fine. I ask no more.
That's very kind of you, Barbara. Yes, I just do my best with what I've been given :-)
Dear David, I hear talk of a gnarly old gentleman who lives in a half ruin buried in a forest, not here on my hill but that which faces me to the south, it is said he has a power, a shapeshifting power which might be of interest to you. Perhaps, if your insurance is unobliging he may entertain a person as magical of mind as you, teach you his secrets... I have not had the pleasure of meeting this shaman - or perhaps I have? - and I must warn you, his dogs are rather unpleasant but perhaps a letter, of the hand written kind of course, no modern conveniences reach his abode, would suffice as introduction.... do let me know.
If in the meantime you find an alternative would you be so kind as to advise of where or how I might grow my own longed for wings...
Heavens, Susie, did I miss replying to you here? I had thought of what I was going to say while out early but maybe it never made it tot he keyboard. I was going to quip that like the waiter's advice to the customer announcing that he had a fly in his soup, you should 'keep your voice down or everyone will want one ' (a gnarly old gentleman in a half ruin). Well, it wasn't worth waiting a week for. My jokes aren't worth waiting for at all! Bu there you are. See you soon :-)
I run my fingers along the lines of my jaw, to the softness behind and below my ear, imagining cartilaginous contraptions installed there with their hard outer flaps and the soft filigree folds. I feel the water’s shiver and taste the salt.
I stretch my hand back over my shoulder and press my fingers into my flesh to feel the hard bone of my little half formed wings and dream of scrawling calligraphy on the vellum sky.
I am transported with magic woven through your words, David. Utterly breathtaking ✨
Hi Emily. What fun we'll have one fine day, swimming and soaring to our heart's content :-)
Fun indeed! 💛✨ I look forward to seeing you there David
oh, David, how you weave the longing of humans (well, the ones paying attention) to be in deep communion with the magic of other beings so much so that we desire their innate form. how i've wanted to fly like a bird, swim with the ease of a fish, flow like a river... i do think i shall rip up the contract and work on shapeshifting.
Dear anne, you put it so beautifully. 'so much so that we desire their innate form'. When I was young and learnt about tawny owls, learnt about their ability to construct a world via sound, their soft feathers - and then heard them, I was besotted. A friend of my father took me to see one in a wood where he had a fair idea of its territory and favourite perches and roosts. And see her we did. On the way back home he was confused as to why I was so glum. Eventually he coaxed it out of me. I said 'I'm very grateful to have seen an owl. It was wonderful. But that wasn't really what I wanted. I want so much to BE an owl'. :-)
Despite Clause 14b, you regularly perform your own transformation procedures. You who possess these vast gifts of imagination and incantation walk your own path of apprenticeship to the wild, able to feel your way into any being, I am convinced. Thank you for your creaturely revelations and for "forming the words." xo
There you are, Carmine. Mighty oak. I was just talking to a little apprentice oak down in the bottom field, two foot high and grown from a rare old native of mid-Wales. The Welsh are at home here, of course, having owned the place just yesterday, only 12 centuries ago. You've been quiet. Quiet is a balm in this noisy world. An oak should be quiet when it wishes. And I'm sure something lovely is brewing under the lid of that pressure cooker of current events. When its time comes :-)
An oak is resistant to hurrying, but this quiet has stretched longer than wanted! The pressure cooker is a hindrance. Yet, after some blighted attempts, one small emerging branch shows signs of promise. x
It may be small - but it is the branch of an oak. No trifling matter :-)
That last photograph is absolutely magical.
Hi India. It was a bit of luck, the ghost tree in the reflection. The river is unseasonably low at the moment. When I see the dry whitening rocks at the side I always recall your evocation of drought a few months back, and shudder.
We are still in drought. Creeks dry, dams cracked and parched. Waiting on water…..
Oh, India. I'd gladly cry some tears for your creeks and dams. But I guess they'd be too salty to do any good.
Ah. Poetic, delicate, profound writing that connects directly to the heart. It is a joy to read and feel. Thank you.
That's very generous of you, Darkhorse. I'll keep trying :-)
Yes, prose that I wish the world could hear. So lovely! It has permitted my imagination to roam further! Thank you!
Thanks, Rebecca. We'll keep treading the backroads :-)
Another beauty of a piece of prose. Thank you David.
Thanks, Leslie. I see the language is rubbing off on you. A very Gaelic feel to the construction 'beauty of a piece'. But then, how could it be otherwise, you living in the shadow of those mountains as you do :-)
Maybe the language of a place quietly seeps through you until it’s bone deep. I think it might.
I read this with such joy, and appreciation for the impish humor that peeks out. That dratted Clause 14b! When I was a child, I wanted to fly. I still have flying dreams and meditations occasionally. But I think if I could shapeshift, my first choice would be to grow a throat and bone structure that would enable me to make those gorgeous, trilling birdsongs that so entrance me. But! Clause 14b! At least it granted me the proper ears to hear the songs, that’s some comfort.
Thank you for this.
Thanks Lise. Yes, wishes are fine but make do and mend gets the day underway :-)
Beautiful and magical. May the wild world remind us of what is most meaningful, alive and precious.
Thank you, Anahata, that is kind and wise.