THIN STICKS WALKING

 Tidal Marks, Saltburn by Ruth Stage.  See more of Ruth's beautiful egg tempera paintings here.


Thin Sticks Walking by Annie Kerr

Thin sticks, walking. Tumbleweed dot of
dog runs beside them and away like a
looping thread. Fading smaller they are
merging with ground bound rain of mirage
shimmer, where refraction pulls their
movements into a staccato dance from a 
chaotic pen. They break up like static, hit
the lip before they fall into the abyss of 
distance too far to see.

And after their falling

the stillest space. Endless sand.
Forever sky reflecting in the mirror of
shallows. A canvas that shows the
tiniest change. It waits for a new word
on an empty page.

Read more about British artist, Ruth Stage,  here  

 When I discovered Ruth Stage's paintings  Annie Kerr's poem came to mind. I'm sure you can see why.

 Paintings by Ruth Stage. 

ESCAPE TO THE MOUNTAINS

"Do you know what I need? To escape to the mountains, surrounded by tall trees, I will lay on the moss, and breath in the scent of mushrooms, flowers and wet soil."  --  Lyrics by Les Discrets

.... and that is exactly what we did
We escaped to the mountains for four wondrous days

Wherever we went
through forests 
or up mountain slopes
we could hear water
gurgling
baboons barking
sharp warnings
that we were approaching

The baboon population seems to have increased since we were there last.

Some spent time on the roof
Others foraged the grass for snacks
in the hotel gardens.
We watched babies doing somersaults 
on the lawn outside our room
I'm convinced they were showing off 
because we were watching them.

I was thrilled that I managed to photograph the Bee Eaters before they flew off, though this image is far better.

The Poet Dreams of the Mountain 

Sometimes I grow weary of the days, with all their fits and starts.
I want to climb some old gray mountains, slowly, taking
The rest of my lifetime to do it, resting often, sleeping
Under the pines or, above them, on unclothed rocks.
I want to see how many stars are still in the sky
That we have smothered for years now, a century at least.
I want to look back at everything, forgiving it all,
And peaceful, knowing the last thing there is to know.
All the urgency! Not what the earth is about!
How silent the trees, their poetry being of themselves only.
I want to take slow steps, and think appropriate thoughts.
In ten thousand years, maybe, a piece of the mountain will fall.

-- Mary Oliver

"But I'll tell you what hermits realize. If you go off into a far, far forest and get very quiet, you'll come to understand that you're connected to everything'"  --  Alan Watts

I take a photo of this dam every time we go. It is always so peaceful and a soothing introduction to our holiday.