north light

Date: October 19, 2011

The Flirtatious Landscape

I was writing the other day about the way the universe seems to invite our appreciation, and respond, like a cat arching its back, to that appreciation being shown.

It reminded me of something I read a month or so ago about landscapes flirting with us – sending out signals that demand and invite an appreciative, admiring response.

It also reminded me of something I wrote recently as a bit of writing practice, describing the journey home. It’s about the landscapes round here, in all their flirtatious glory.


I am driving home, from singing practice. The sky is grey to the left, blue to the right. The day is cold: it has the clear, bright look of a January day. It was raining, heavily, early in the morning, and the air is washed.

The landscape has been washed with January sunlight, and cold rain.

The hills to the left are showing their folds, their contours, like the most magnificent eastern princess, fat, sensual, curvaceous, enticing, lying back and waiting to be touched, to be admired.

To be fed grapes by gasping, drooling admirers.

To the left, the sky is dark, and a rainbow cuts through the sky, illuminating my passage.

Puddle Mystic

I am going to start living like a mystic:

watching the world through the window of a puddle,

inside out and upside down.

I am going to peep through the hole in the branch of a tree and

look at the world through a whole

through a hole

letting flux and uncertainty,

paradox and inconsistency,

flow through me

like the words of a nonsense poem

meaning less and

meaning full

rippling and dancing

like the most glorious


forest of underwater trees.

Prompted by the first line of: I Am Going to Start Living Like a Mystic, by Edward Hirsch.

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