View from a Hill
(Part 1 - West Dorset)
by
Tony Farnden
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Table of Contents
Lyme Bay
After Rain
Across Land and Sea
Between Earth and Sky
Sun and Moon
Another Land
Storm
Charmed in the Round
Salt Kisses
Trees
Cogden Beach, Dorset
Winter Into Spring
Green Heart
Dorset the Fae
The Long Hour Glass
Lyme Bay
From up here the bay lays spread out
in silver and pewter
beneath grey clouds lit from behind by a low winter sun.
The tide is out showing old gold
between Charmouth and Lyme.
In the western distance Torquay and Brixham brood,
all moody sapphire,
as does Portland to the east,
jutting out into the icy sea.
But it is the sea and sky that draw my eyes outwards,
meeting like two lovers in the softest of embraces,
all shivers and sighs.
The sea's skin like mercury, rippling at the touch
of the sky's breath
and merging into one inseparable truth at the horizon.
Goddess kissing goddess with a yearning that spills
into my being, filling it to overflowing,
salt tears streaming in the breeze.
(Looking out over Lyme Bay from Hardown Hill, 4th December 2013.)
After Rain
The dogs run ahead through the holloway,
splashing through the puddles,
chasing some phantom scent.
The haws and hazels arch overhead,
a cloister dripping rain as we pass under them.
We burst out into the last rays of the winter sun.
Clouds, scarves of glowing rose and peach,
embrace a sky of turquoise and lapis.
Veils of rose are reflected back from the east,
a kiss to remind us she will be back come dawn.
(16.05, December 13, 2013)
Across Land and Sea
Go little bird,
fly far and fly safe
across land and sea,
through rain and hail,
through sand and fire.
Go little bird,
fly far and fly safe,
from my north to her south,
from my winter to her summer,
and sing the words I taught you.
Go little bird,
fly far and fly safe
and sing her my words
of friendship and of love
when she wakes next morn.
(A rainy afternoon in Dorset after talking to a friend, 21.12.2013.)
Between Earth and Sky
skies are glowing
behind grey clouds
as she again passes,
low above the hills,
like a winter's child
drawn on by a promise
of an icy touch
sending shivers outwards.
the trees are swaying,
reeling still from
her sister's passing.
back she, the wind, will come
to tug at my coat
trying to drag me
skywards, held close
in her fierce cold embrace.
but the land holds me fast
as she too has not yet
whispered all the secrets
she has for my ears alone.
Sun And Moon
The sea is at rest after so much turmoil
and the sky, free of clouds for once,
sends a breeze inland, an icy shawl
that wraps us all in its frigid folds.
The winter taunts us with a spring lie
as a dark butterfly skims across the gorse
and is gone before leaving its name,
whether admiral or peacock who knows.
The sun has rolled out a 9 karat road
upon the murmuring waves
from the southern horizon to the beach below
inviting her daughter moon to join her
in her dance across the ice blue sky.
The moon, two thirds of an ivory disk,
watching from the north-east,
ignores her mother's request.
She has the stars to lay with tonight
on their velvet bed of ebony,
even if the clouds roll back in.
11th January 2014
Another Land
Golden Cap's flat top meets the sea
at the point where the sky touches down
on the gray horizon, blurred by distance.
Will it look the same if I climb up to it
or will it reveal something other,
maybe a portal to the land of the Fay?
Just take one more step,
not looking down, ahead in trust.
A step into another existence
to somewhere else,
somewhere on another page
from another story on another shelf.
Rather than plummet to where all folly leads
I'll wait 'til my dreams take me there, as they will,
and then I will step over that threshold into Fairy.
Open your hand and keep this small token for me
as you will need it to call me back when day returns.
It is my love for you wrapped in a soft kiss.
(Golden Cap is one of the highest points in my part of the world - the landward side is a hill rising to a flat top grazed be sheep - the seaward side is a vertical cliff. This ghost side leads to another land not often trod except in dreams.)
Storm
Old man Storm has woken the morning up
with swords clashing and drums rolling.
He's spreading his ragged cloak
across the whole sky,
turning grey morn to purple night
before he stabs through the dark
with angry jabs of electric blue
and noisy threats, daring all comers.
The clouds bleed iron,
pouring their life's blood
upon the saturated earth,
streaming down from the hills,
filling drains and ditches,
as the air roars and shakes.
Trees howl and thrash,
skeletal fists raised high,
bending but not submitting,
even when limbs crack
and tumble groaning
to the drowned forest floor.
Land and sea snarl at each other,
waves crashing,
pebbles squealing,
rolling up and down the beach,
in a tumult of spray and foam,
lovers in a tussle of white bedding.
Old man Storm, now expended,
bent and wasted, departs, growling.
Charmed in the Round