
Darkful, lightening. Slivers of sky, deep shadows of tree. A hare bounds away, a red squirrel watches warily. Fallen pine trees their great foot plates of root and earth block the path. Birdsong notate the morning.

artist


Salt clouded glasses filter an easterly clyping wind, trembles islands of barely blooming sea pinks. Veinous blue gulleys of clay slip down to the sea. A lapwing tumbles to the ground, spooking a curlew to flight, its long curved beak darning pieces of sky, mending the torn light of Spring. May retreats to the margins. I lean into the wind and find myself at a curious angle.