the air shudders

at an ugly swear word across my sky

After the swallows have given us hope that spring is here and that winter is spent, the bee eaters return. They are my favourite birds. They usher in summer with a flourish, with their ravishing colours and steal the show.

This morning the new arrivals are all of a twitter but tucked out of sight. They sound as if they are frantically building a nest in the cliff. All I can see are the vines busy growing up tall, slowly getting top heavy. Soon there will be flowers. When the bee eaters start flying in groups the grapes will weigh plump on the vine, but that is still some moons away. There’s no rushing wine. It’s another mother nature lecture on patience.

The butterflies have awoken and are busying about. They flutter in a symphony while the bee eaters fill the air with wind-chime chatter. There is a faint sound of a plane thousands of feet high, invisible to me. For some unknown reason, even its distant sound is curiously soothing. I am wondering why this is, when out of the blue a helicopter appears. It drowns out every droplet of peace. It moves east, nose downwards then brakes, horizontally suspended as if to pounce on prey. Like a kestrel it hovers over the motorway, snooping with a critical eye. It is navy blue with a citrus tail and is probably police. It turns and flies towards the coast. I was hoping it was off, but then it circles and returns again, and again, stooping lower every time. This urban monster is an unforgiving flying ant. It puts a curse on my silence like an ugly swear word scribbled across the sky. The air shudders at the insult as this incredible machine slices the valley into shards. We cower as it deafens us all.

Long minutes later, with a sense of relief, it begins to leave. The engine’s roar tapers off as it exits to the valley behind and as it retreats, first it loses its citric colour, then its stripes and then its tail. Finally it flies out of earshot and out of sight.

I am so surprised at the return to silence after this intrusion because it is deeper and richer, much more empowering than before. A true oasis. I am forced to admit that all is not lost. It was, after all, a scar-less intrusion.

A tiny spider has had time enough to crawl up my t-shirt. A bee buzzes near my feet and reminds me that work is piling up on my desk at home. Time to go… As I turn to leave, I see all the thistle heads around my feet are bathed in gentle healing light delicately filtered through the trees. Their pale, feathery hats are censored, bathing in pure silence.

They are perfect caresses of lilac. They are offerings of peace.

Bless them.

thistle tops bathed in censored sunlight @naturetorque