november 2

P1050285rebound  our first revisit our den of dying dead sheep, skulls, ribs, spines we found our graveyard last time but responded to it as a place of clarity of peace of golden acceptance

these sheep lay down to leave life returning to the source this high point near the road the source here under our feet this hollowed out space pooled pooled trees lie drenched in mud mud-coloured water, leaves coating the ground, just a few trees with leaves to all, a beech, a willow a hawthorn, some oak leaves in a gaggle just fell, holly of course and ivy still on

I sit on a dissolving tree, mossed, uprooted,its length marking the whole pond all the trunks and branches boring into the mud, a very slow journey back to coal, today it is logs and mud water, november cold, and yet it is blessed, tractor a field away, birds crackling, slight wind, masses of rain earlier now sunlit patches, as we wait, what light can do to water is like breathing every  time renewed,new

I am sitting on this dunked tree looking back at a puddling stream, flowing fast and lit by reflection against a skyline, this is the first return

caught my back on a hawthorn tree held saw sheep’s wool held too its moving wool is holding a strip of yellow leaf all moving

I am unsteady in the mud leaves my boots don’t give me trust in fact I am waiting to slip, it will happen, this is a feast and a resourcer, maybe we become sellers of resourcing from which you don’t come back, to be carried by tree and water, sky and leaves, sheep and grass, another being
is opening a fold, witnessing a collapse, a real aching heart yes my real heart is aching, the body wail of pain I saw is reflected in me, I am going with earth but this bright time of speaking is maybe flooding me, receive it allow it, I can be left without , well maybe not if I keep uncovering the folds, let the water stream out and stream onwards, one drop in the centre of the pool and its reverb out, I am resourced but deadly my heart hurts so much, is it me, my heart, my branch flesh that hurts, do I want to lie down and give it up like the sheep choosing where to be , I must , I lay down

we start down the stream, a new sheep’s carcass lies peacefully in the water new since our last visit 3 or 4 weeks ago the fur is still on the bones, the flesh is like lumps of mud strewn out behind it, the bones are still covered in a hairy substance, its teeth gleam  and the hair on its head rises up, the ribs circle and widen, one leg turned around and crushed, ligaments and cartilege still there, water flows on and stays clean, the graveyard of happy sheep

lie down in a stream to return


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