So exhilarating out here
Vines turning to rust. Broody clouds trundling. Vines dwarf me in my happiness. The birds.
Oh the birds.
Morning’s gossip on the wing. Heaven knows about what. It doesn’t matter. I enjoy them all the same. I hardly know any by name. But I listen. How I love to listen. They drown out the motorway grumble that drifts my way in the wind. Gnarled ancient vine roots at my feet, damp from a rare night rain, twisting and curling uncomfortably, peeling, shedding their wisdom like secretive snakes.
A click!
A second click.
Silence. A leaf falls down to the red mud. Did I just hear a leaf say goodbye to the vine??
Yes autumn. The birds are not busy nesting or mating or growing new colours, they hear you too. Enjoying your passing in a chorus. The summer heat is forgiven.
My feet heavier on the earth. I realise I have grounded after a long night, awake worrying in the small hours. Worries that magnify in the dark. But now out here, they grind to a halt with that happy thud. Relieved to be out here.
The sky gets lighter as day comes in. The clouds stay dark, someone is moody up there.
With the light I see the raindrops have skirted to the southern tip of of leaves. They are heavier too this morning.
More bird song, more musical now.
Yes. This is calm. Happiness. Shopping therapy is a fraud! In up to its neck guilty in its very name. It’s out here that heals. Writing in the wind.
I was there then, your words and I wanted to be .