october 16

tangerine reflection in the milk of clippenham stream

like looking through old thick negatives that brown heat

I am at a lip in the stream – a single branch thick and fallen crosses the water, caught leaves hold back, overhead light makes for glitter og vertical diamonds, bristling with bubbles

I am sitting in the beauty and sublime while missing my lecture on Burke and Kant and beauty and sublime I miss it and yet am in the doing

does life ‘narrow’ down or ‘widen’ so much that being with a stream is life enough?

walked along further

found a triangular field

took the horizon line of beeches and skyline

the stream got harder

then had a moment stripped off and went in – it was cold, one dunk each was plenty

invigorated  carried that on and in my body all day

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