Friday, April 17, 2009

Night song on a damp air night

Tonight we walk in the darkest of nights where not a star shines down. No moon. Only the steady sweep of lighthouse warning of treacherous rocks, smurred and smudged by the dark, moist night.
And the night smells of earth, raw earth, and yellow gorse, pale scented, not rich like the thick, golden scent of gorse in sunshine. The white blackthorn leaves a faint star-shine of scent hanging in the still night air.
We walk the village bounds and hear the cries of night birds, the alarm of geese disturbed from sleep, the distant dog bark from the farm across fields, and behind it all the ever constant song of the sea.

9 comments:

Val said...

A lovely word picture
Very Evocative...Thank you

Margaret Pangert said...

Amazing! Reminds me of the French Lieutenant's Woman walking on the moors-the same dark, brooding suspense. Your writing is really, really good.
just an aside:
I never saw a moor
I never saw the sea
Yet i know how heather looks
And what a wave must be.
(Emily Dickinson)

basicnorth said...

How I wish I could join you on your night walks ... I have a black dog who dances with moonbeam shadows - she would like the light house!

Ricka

jamjar said...

This painting with words, so so beautiful, I feel as though I have myself, walked across the wet grass in my bare feet.

Andrea said...

Magical! Thanks for taking me away.

Carrie said...

Wonderful writing...
I really enjoy your wordcraft, it embraces all the senses and the spirit too...

NAL said...

Transporting...yes, I WAS there...

Little Me said...

Reminded me of home in the northern moors. Lovely.

Elizabeth Rhiannon said...

Beautiful. Thank you for taking me there :)