Scribblings

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I went up Mynydd Mawr at the far end of the Llyn at the weekend, Mynydd Mawr means ‘Big Mountain’ and it is. I go there sometimes to have a think. You can see a long way from up there – out over Bardsey Island -Ynys Enlli in Welsh - and right along the length of the Llyn. You have to think up there, something makes you.

A cold, clear day – scribbled with my pastels until my fingers got too cold. I was covered in the dust they make, all over my hands and face.

It’s a good place for thinking – this is what I thought.

On a hill
On a hill
High up in light
Mind soaring
Not yet quite sky.
Stone still standing
And footed down tight
So as not
To take flight

By the distanced distanced
Slow movement stopped
In freeze-frame
Activity not seen
All happening
Far-sighted see
It happening
Unseen by me

In distance

Hare leaps
Child falls
Old man shakes from sleep
Leaves breeze
Safe down below
From gulls
Fish deeply hide
In scaled and rusting hulls

Up on my hill
I cannot see
But feel it
Seeping in.
Awareness
Rushed activity
Life's motion,
Pulling deep on me

I could join it
And I will
Too soon move
Back to earth
To restart life
Once more
A used continued
Chore

But for a minute
My minute
My minute snatched away
High on my hill
Not tired at all
I stand within my sky
And struggle
Not to fly