Thick moose moss grows in Fiordland
in the probable absence of any moose
Waterfalls of moss,
Oceans of it (how can there be so much)
Pungent groves of seaweed in the air
A heavy matrix catching water droplets
Like treeish stars
– Look, you’re floating in it –
Wafting in green light, breathing green mer-light
in half-mixed paint pot underworld hues
An inside out pond tentacled with spongy fingers
holding water for the mountain.
Do participate in the activities on offer:
try swamp dancing – balancing on a sinky waterlogged raft – hold those soggy boots upright or whoops – capsized again.
Flop on about the comfy mattress if you like waterbeds
(not so good for finding dropped tent pegs or hair ties ever again)
The moss goes down forever –
reach an entire arm into billowing waves
Will there indeed ever be firm ground?
Dark watery pools and caves hide, depth uncertain,
Snuggled into coves of beech tree bole or craggy bays of roof plate – all gloomed with strange faces and forms
Welcome to Spookers
Dive into the clear cold Iris Burn as it dances puckishly through the story…
but not for long….
Fumble through the layers of fur coat like a Narnia wardrobe
– outcome iffy –
will it be rough granite, slithery root or entish armpit?
Mostly your weight settles on something like mattress springs and you’re on your way just fine…
Ghosts of trees and bits thereof
shoulder in under the minty duvet like piles of dirty washing or a cat.
Half dying or losing arms and legs doesn’t matter much in tree land.
You’re still part of the family, part of the game
no need to feel left out!
But footfall is unpredictable
Lean just there, and it’s into the pit for you!
The seat of my overtrou needs blister tape now – they’ll never be the same.
Oh it’s all a bit tiring by the end of the day –
but here’s a nice sandy river bank for the red tent.
Better hope it doesn’t rain.
There be angel visitations, here,
in the silence,
in the upland wilds
As I wash socks by night, all seated by the burn,
Sleek little porpoises – beaks thrust forward like drink bottle spouts
dipping their heads
What do they eat in this pristine water?
The pairs keep touch with a sweet lisping whistle
Answered by a quick
– Clack clack clack clack –
from the percussion section-
They scare an anachronistic shag up onto a branch
Snaking it’s long beaked head on its long neck-
Their universe is not mine – these angels
They barely notice my presence
focussed solely on clear water
and each other
sliding by my world … and vanishing.
Light from the east
Falls mysteriously in interlocking circles –
others pale distant planets…
across the dragonfly cushion
up the moulding on the window
spilling across the wall –
My physicists might tell me why
but before they have
– the light changes
In just one day we can create a world
A hidden cove on the Island of O
An egg inside a tempest, bounded by walls of sleep
A castle of rain warmed by fire –
my mountain hut
Comfy as a round teapot
or a hot bowl of coffee
The O of a curly cat
unharassed and quite at peace
not bothering to please anybody
A day for story and tangential oddities –
dreaming up moomins, momeraths and the moon
A solo day for song notes and noticing –
A footnote day – not the main narrative
Solitude is rain sinking into soil,
Slipping like stories into the substrata
Go away sun – you mean duty and being sensible
I think we can do without you
for just one day.
They are hitchhikers and stowaways from our past
that happened to come along for the ride with us
Such treasure! Better than cathedrals
You can keep your Mona Lisa – words need no security system
Just keep using.
They are nuggets of humanness
So irrepressible – you try telling a word to shut up –
Each is the perfect crystallisation of an idea:
ambivalence tantamount taonga
They form around the germ of a notion:
disconcerting chirrup warp
Antarctica tundra whiff
Or a feeling:
huddle grit umbrage quail
ardent tendentious outrage bruise
What a gift for us all:
kerfuffle crumple musafir nostril consummate merry
Some get lost along the way –
Did you know that a ream used to mean the ripple made by the nose of a swimming otter?
That dimmity once meant twilight?
Or that a shippen was a shelter for cattle left open on one side?
Drop them one at a time into some pond into your mind
let them ripple out in welling concentricities
Where did they come from?
How did this
Come to express exactly that