Under the mighty thundercloud warm air is drawn Yet the wind whips simultaneously From the rising wall of slate Steep and anviled, ominous is the beast And precise as the shutter closed, A grinding rumble from the depths of the grey was sounded Like a giant awakening; And so drawn am I to Beauty seen in the striking skies; Shielding ugliness at what is left behind Biblical in scene Of flood or gale When the giant takes its leave. Day after day Storm after storm To look up we glimpse heaven’s beauty manifest Preferable to downward cast.
Only a thin blue line A hint of haze As fog puckers its surface; Smokescreen of view, Visceral changes manifest as Blurred shapes deep within a Cloud- born haze form Lines without ends, Fields, their boundaries lost in Vanishing spectral light- Of A chain of promises broken; Drawn in are we or out Into a black and white world?
So will I show you the Spring: With the warmth of the sun Calendar prediction Fast growth of green shoots Spearing the soil Arrow flight to the light.
So will I show you: Protected with wool Cloched and tressed up Planted To beat onslaught- A gruelling antidote to A month of drought Monsoon in proportion; Leaching of Mulched beds To the bottom of the hill A stream of minerals A hand given from river to sea. Stripped is the soil The fangs of the wind to evil intent Inexorable to growth Whipped to submission.
So will I explain the gardener in me : DNA defined Through generations wired; Of country estate to Allotment plot Stories of bounty Or thriving on nothing; Plantswomen Not educated but practised Endless summers of sun And snows in winter.
Now qualifications are mine and technology too Yet the weather unfathomable To the elements I claw at a loss.
Cloak of cloud Morphs into a storm dementor Cauliflowered top and rising fast Thunderously blackened Drawn battle of the gods Ominously stirred Fringed edges sweep the skyline Swallowing the view In its fury Into a black and white world.
Bold in the lane Totally still A statuesque form Aligned to a bronze Cast by the evening sun Exhibit 2 Then... Alerted It’s ears twist and are raised Like a muntjac from behind So raised are the hind legs Gear changed and foot down Shower gravel as they spring Burning rubber on a sixpence Through the gateway and gone.
The sea churns With spun sugar-whipped foaming energy Fixing salt spray on the lips; The gull on the fingers of the wind Is held in suspension As the waves roll and retreat Like the Tuppenny slot machine of the arcade, Relentlessly mechanical in motion: in and out Drawing the sand from the bed of the sea In a serge of reddish soup Hewn from Jurassic cliffs: Remorseless the anger is until The lion lies down with the lamb.
They arrived last evening, Nonchalantly walking along the verge, Bobbing red heads held high Owning the road, So passers by stopped and asked if they were ours- A pair with Quirky gait And funny call (not the passers by) Of ‘Chi Chi Chi,’ And ‘Come back here;’ I’ve never cared to look at guinea fowl before- They made me smile, More suited to wide African Savannah plain not tarmac road, And Devon rain, Large and strident; So different from my domestic fowl They made no move to go Except to be shooed away from A passing car; Later I went out to see- Soft was their chatter Back again, High up in our trees; Independent they seemed, Confident these Uninvited guests; Strangely I don’t think they Are suited to stay- Perhaps they’ve moved on by now.
Again the wind roars The rain lashes Across in straight lines The torment comes In the grey light of dawn A driven energy A pounding invasion Quietened are the birds Taking refuge in the hedge Their song Replaced by the strengthened gusts Gone is the gentleness of evening The rain driving in an angled veil Intensifies in rhythm of a snare drum on the roof The mist that envelops Tumbling down the hill into oblivion.
Steady and deliberate drops fall Patterning the surface of the soil In stippled pattern Releasing The intoxicating sweet smell of fungal spores Evocative of rare still nights The air hangs The sound mesmerising Intensifying The garden in secrecy awaits Refreshment Without torment Of wind and storm. Tonight the soil will be replenished The plants nourished Nurtured with care.
Reason- there is no reason We cannot comprehend; Where there was certainty There lies a gaping hole- An emptiness too big to fill; Reason - there is no reason- We want to shout it out. We cry without sound. It’s too big, Our voice too small. Questions, but no answers Drift on the breath Of silence; But listen- On the wings of the dove Peace descends, In a still small voice That fills the space; We are held When we are falling By threads so fine The strands that tie, That hold us fast Where we belong; Connect us to those who love us still; Beyond the mists of time, We trace the stars across the sky, The clouds that part, The light that shines, And find our way That guides us home.
Ruth Partridge 