A Journey Up

In the bank of the river the roots of a fallen tree: sickly pale, lumpy metatarsals, poke out and shiver. The tree is further down, flood dumped and gathering its own beach. I climb where birds have nested and watch out over the water. Sun plays in the eddies: some look friendly and some deceiving. Daffodils on the path are budded; a warm spring smell of earth, onion, water and a hint of baked dung; see how the light makes a flowing jewel of the river: I follow the path through the odorous ramson leaves, over tunnel mazes where badgers mark their territories with gleaming coils of excrement: amazing what there is to marvel the senses here. All the way up the loose steep path, to see the river shining like cut citrine quartz.


nutschell said…
love the photos and the imagery of your words :)
Geo. said…
Beautiful. With the exception of baked dung, which I lately equate with identity thieves, our posts are closely related --but yours, as pleasantly usual, looks lovelier on the page. Thank you for providing this calm and moving reflection to a presently jumpy American mind!
Lisa Southard said…
Thank you Nutschell :-)
Happy to be the bringer of calm, Geo- hope you get the theft redressed!
Suze said…
My heart goes out to you and Geo.

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