A dawn walk in development

Breath rises frozen

a morning mist floats above the pond

and drifts across the frosted grass

In the wood there’s a brand new scene

so much has changed

feel the world turning

and time slip away beneath us

grateful for the pine tree’s support

and the comfort of a bluebell blanket

that caresses the contours of the land

birdsong ebbs, flows and flutters

squirrels scamper

and a curious jackdaw creeps closer

the sun climbs swiftly

soon the light floods through,

opening the fresh green leaves and warming the soil  

it’s a world made new again

we are filled with a feeling that we don’t deserve this,

but then reminded that it is absurd to think that we can earn moments like these. 

a gift freely given has no strings attached

it asks nothing in return

development has no entry requirements

Every space has its own feel

this wood is its own world

it sits on the cusp of a small hill

where the ground falls sharply away 

drawing our eyes to the distant hills

the land between shimmers in the early morning light

an impenetrable veil that protects us

from the grumbling engine-world we hear but cannot see

the jackdaw edges closer, 

they’ve been a welcome companion,

we’ll look for them again should we return

to begin again

a view over morning fields

Why do we come?

we come to connect

to make another start

every day is a new beginning,

it’s own starting point.

sunlight over a single tree and its reflection in water

So it turns out that we can be 60 years old,

have left hardly a ripple,  

yet still experience moments suffused with meaning

we can sit under falling cherry blossom with the warm sun on our back and write

 

It is not what we write that matters,

but that we write

It is not where we walk that matters,

but that we walk

not how far we walk,

but how we walk

and all this walking and writing is simply in service of quality

 

What helps us find quality in our lives?

Remember

Remember a walk in development In the Autumn stillness a blackbird’s whistle echoes childhood voices and the crunch of broken glass while the steam from

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