South Devon – Page 2 – Ruth Partridge

Haiku- Bigbury

liminal lineclouds float over mirrored sandspun cotton candy

There’s no going backTo smooth shape- shifting sand The ebb and flow A Light- hung shore There’s no going backTo the transient hazeThe stillness of morning Winter’s lightThere’s no going backThe moment is gone Captured by lensThe now became thenThere’s no going backBlank canvas to start Broad stroke of the brushShape- shifting lineThere’s no goingContinue reading “No going Back”

Evening Rain

Rain percolates Through the glassEach dropLike resinDistilledTo trickle down The paneA fusion Each beadEmbracingUntilThe obscuredBecomes clearOnce moreAnd all is ObsidianAs night returns.

Splash on the Shore

Foam glistensIridescent,Blown on the windOf salt sprayShards of light Play on the crests of the wavesLike moths to lightDogs runIn and out In free abandonChasing the tideCatching the best of the day.

Morning

After a summer of rain – at last a lovely day! The sky is stretchedIn effortless flowThe land cradled in thefolds of the hillsShrill notes of birdCut the stillness of airAll is restoredThe earth sings its song.

Lament of Rain

Clouds scud Blackened skiesVeil the sunWith coarsened threatLament of rain.

Spring Contrasts

Pocketed by the glove of fogThe day slips into a world of whiteWhere even the birdsAre silentAnd remain unseen.There’s a pointedness In the roughened fingers of windThat wrap around the western walls Causing slender branches to danceBeneath the misted pane.The old roof nods to the windPassing throughSlates rattle and timbers shiftRain coursesThe ground,a sodden carpetOfContinue reading “Spring Contrasts”

Through the Window

Transient the grainy grey of Morning Slips unnoticed into view Shrillness carried on the ribbon of birdsongCuts through the grey bluish hue.Dense the mist in blanket formA shrouded cover to cloak the sodA distant measure all but hiddenEtched fingers of branches held aloft.

February Mist

When fog hangs over us , as so often it does on the 300 ft contour , why are we always surprised to find a different day as we drop down into the valley? Entrenched, enshroudedIn mist so thick The sun,obscured devoid of lightDarkened boughs hang lowUnder the rain -filled cloudLanes stain redAs mud leachesAndContinue reading “February Mist”

From Night to This

So often awake at 4am to which I pen a few lines in the darkness – watching , always watching as the eye becomes accustomed to the dark . It is only then that I realise that dark has many forms and colours . Night vision is so depleted in us of the modern world.Continue reading “From Night to This”