1322
Autumn fields pock-marked with crows
And sheep knee-deep in clovered grass
Who crop their way towards the hedge
Weighed down with blackberries and sloughs.
Brian Hick October 2013
©copyright Sally Hick 20.11.24
1321
I am writer, because that's what I do.
No matter whether you read this or not
I write on and trust that it is true.
I am a writer,
But all the words on earth aren't worth a jot,
Be they Milton, Wordsworth or Shakespeare,
Duffy, Johnson, Heaney, Elliott,
Until they lift the heart above what's mere
Normality, above the seething rot
And stench of how things may appear.
I am a writer.
Brian Hick October 2013
©copyright Sally Hick 18.11.24
1320
George Herbert had a way with simple words
Realising that the working man
Doesn't have much time amongst the herds
Of cows, his flock of sheep & goats to scan
Profound ideas, theology obscure
Even to those scholars of his age;
Also so he wrote for us, in ideas pure,
Unsullied by the wisdom of the sage,
Yet speaking to the heart because he knew
The Holy Spirit burns its fiercest fire
Within the breasts of those who love what's true
And seek it with unquenchable desire.
Brian Hick October 2013
©copyright Sally Hick 8.11.24
1319
Another round of sonnets to relieve
The stultifying mess our minds are in
Trying to pin down what we believe?
Another round of sonnets?
After Ashburnham, what can we say?
Are there yet among us those who grieve
At the name of Jesus; who don't pray
And don't feel the need; who'd rather leave
The church than maybe find a better way
Of doing things? Maybe we do need
Another round of sonnets?
Brian Hick October 2013
©copyright Sally Hick 6.11.24
1317
Equinox - Bewl Water
Silent sultry
Late September days
A watercolour sky
Soft-focussed brooding
Drifts over Bewl
We walk clockwise
From Three Leg Cross
Through damp woodland
Up and over gentle hills
Down toward the water edge
On churned up muddy paths
Yachts drift past
A soft splash of canoes
Solitary birds unseen
Call from across an inlet
Distant laughter
Children's voices
A peal of bells
From hired bikes
Family filled
The water-side restaurant
Shuts out drowsy wasps
Who strafe the sun-cut terrace
A time-lapsed photograph
To mark the day
Cajoled we sample
Free goat curry
Before we move on
The day cools
We trudge across a bridge
Down empty lanes
To our parked car
And home.
Brian Hick September 2013
©copyright Sally Hick 2.11.24
1316
Eidfjord
Silent save for paddles slicing
Evenly from side to side
Gliding across glacial waters
Out of Eidfjord on the tide.
Skirt the ship, slip past the river
Where the current speeds up on
Past the pine trees of Hardanger
Past boat-houses and the run
Of the waters on toward Sima
And the heights of Hengegard
Turn to face Vassili egga
Granite sheen above the fjord.
Glacier sliced and stream eroded
Grey cliffs glint in morning light
Indifferent to the line of kayaks
Awestruck, humbled, at their sight.
Cut the surface to move forward
Dip the paddle, sink the blade
Skim the craft across the water
To the falls at Jotengade.
Pause beneath the cleft-cut torrent
Tumbling to the rocks below
Where winter ice and summer storm clouds
Mingle with the melting snow.
Pause to recognise your presence
Free this moment to adore
Recognise in fjord and mountain
All that you created, for
You are in the moving waters
You are in the mists above
You are in the engulfing silence
In the vastness of your love.
Brian Hick autumn 2013 cruise Norway fjords
©copyright Sally Hick 30.10.24