Running has taken a new form since the evenings have become so dark, even before six . It takes ages to get ready – head torch , fluorescent jacket and nifty lights for the back of my ankles in green and red ( can never remember which way round for port and starboard)! Once outContinue reading “Night Running”
Author Archives: ruthpartridge
Advent
Visitors bring their esoteric truths;Friends their empathy’s are quickly shared;Not one,but many, think by chance a country so could run.What of these problemsOf the year?Maudlin talk from television screenBroadcast hourly into every home;When lockdown lifts this time tomorrowNew tiers to graspWrangling in every sphere;Oh to leave the record that is spunTo head outside into quietContinue reading “Advent”
1st Sunday in Advent
Mist low in the valleyHangsAs the sun cuts through;The coldBurns as the stride breaksMolecular strands; The breath is cut shortAs feet passSheep which stationaryLieIn quiet contemplation makeSilver of advent dew sparklesIn drifts of white The damp tarmac glistensA royal pathwayIn clouds descending.
From Darkness to Light
Let the light glow Into the obsidianTurn one grey pebbleOpen the book and turnThe pageRule a clean lineStart a new day.
Sunday slow run
Out came the hat and fluorescent jacket and 6.5 km completed but have lost my Fitbit – it doesn’t feel like it counted! Wet, muddy and getting dark, but restorative nonetheless.
Islands of existence
Like an island chain-An archipelagoAre we islands of existence?Do our minds separate- Compartmentalise?Hold onto secrets of the past Sailing to when we’re adrift?Memories we return toLike favoured holidays past?Ferry crossings back and forthUntil we leave for good?Or strands we take with us on our journey;Connections, patterns,identities Drawn through time and spaceThreads of gossamer tracing theContinue reading “Islands of existence”
Latin isn’t dead
Latin isn’t dead ; it’s immortal. Carpe diem !
The broken shoreline
A walk along the broken shoreline;The ragged waves crash against the rise;Wind and rain drive Near horizontal;The spray is mixed with mist Along the line. The grey sea ever deepens in its movement The sky sinks closer to it still;The noise grinds relentless in the union;Spirits are lifted higher than before.
Woodland in Splendour
Branches- pendulous and jewelled-Leaf dots of orange and yellow,Stippled against silvery paperedSlender trunks;The birch- a key player on the woodland edge;Along the track weDescend steeply intoThe dense forest-Alight with fiery glowAbove the wide smooth trunks of beech;A kaleidoscope of colour-Ambers and tortoiseshell-Vintage greens and goldsKnit the canopy aboveLike fairy lights;Dense Holly Statuesque below Holds brightContinue reading “Woodland in Splendour”
Footsteps without Words
The eye is drawn To capture The broad skySoft haze of the shorelineThe filtered lightThe beauty Of defined grandeur.The ear is drawn To rhythmic motionSounds without callsPowerful and resolute The heart is drawn To footsteps without words.Be still my soul.
Ruth Partridge 