Nature calls. She calls wild. Her energy was strong and running through me as I walked the fields back home this afternoon. She is changing. I am changing. The breeze picked up into the wind. The fragrance of the freshly cut conifer filled the air as the rain began to beat against the leaves and needles. I stood under the cover of overgrown vines and watched the pour heave and move the skies sideways. I breathed, I coyly smiled. I felt wild inside. Felt the heave of my chest. Tilted my head as I looked to the distant pine trees where my friend of late, the buzzard, called. My eyes scanned the branches as my lungs filled. The coyness dissipated. I responded with a howl. The buzzard called again and left the branches for me to see it in flight. Louder and louder I roared. It glided the skies, called and called and called. I jumped, opened my chest and roared time and time again. Nature is wild today. I am wild. Nature calls. She shouts. She hollers. We must listen, open our doors and answer.
 
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The birds, the light the fresh rainfall has so much to say. The sunshine of last week took me to a reservoir where I washed and bathed in the warmth of dusk. Felt the current I created with my arms and legs rush and run across my naked flesh. Kiss and caress me. I watched swallows drop and dive for gnats and damselflies as my chest and belly skimmed the surface. Witnessed fish jump up for their own dinner finds as algae wrapped my legs. Can I live like this always? Be one within one within one within all.
 
This little trek takes me along and through disused fields. Some barriered, high fenced and untouched for over a year. By humans that is. Last week I opened the tall gate, skipped, ran and sang through them as the lowering sun broke its light through the pine branches and tipped the graze. I wandered, I pondered, I cheekily smiled and I returned to the gate saying farewell to the rabbits and neatly closed the field away, tucking the wild flowers back into place. Such true, innocent fun. Pure, simple. The way I love to live. The way to live.
 
I returned on times to watch the moon rise and light paths across the lake. Spoke with the horses and crickets. Let my eyes wander the clovers for four leaves as long grasses tickled my calves, thighs and open palms. I teased away the grains for the dry summer fragrance to be gained. Oh gosh, writing this has these moments return to my centre and heart; and rise. A full chapter life imparts.
 
The path continues along another avenue of pine trees dropping cones to dry. Ready for me to collect for my winter fires feed. Into my bag they go as I gather the feathers of ravens and wood pigeons and rise my head to the buzzards call. Smile I do. Thank you I say. It has become use to me coming this way. I return its call with my own wail. It calls again. Soars and glides overhead. I raise my own wings and howl. Nature calls. Nature pleads for me to respond. I feel my belly and lungs rise and fall. Shoulders and eyes back. I howl once more, twice, three times, four. This is life's track. May I remain in my ever changing ways. Moving with the seasons who have the say.
 
 
Bind and offer feathers, needles and cones
Underneath the buzzards dusk call
To be taken to the medicine home
Where truths come to the door
Slides are clipped and pulled
As the past does rise and fall
Moments lured and lulled
Fear and doubt to be saged
Clearing the canvas’ age
Fire breathes through the smoke
Igniting the spirits cloak
Pulling earth up through its spine
To elucidate in its eye
The energy that patiently lays and waits.
 
For this awakening; pray.

​

As I rose with dawn in dreams of maps I recalled last nights dusk. Where colours and air wrapped my breath and combined with this morn. Took my hands to a pen and had me create.
 
Todays freshly written piece asks to be shared before those put upon paper over the last week. The lives that pass in the moments of night and day, dusk and dawn.
 
 
Last night I bathed in the serene calm of dusk
Watched three foxes inhale the scent of their banquet trails
As I leant into the dew dropped stone wall
Felt the flight of bats against my cheeks

​Equations become whole
In that moment seeked
 
I woke to the mist of morn
Walked the stone steps
Came to the remains of another ones hunt
A mouse caught and skinned
Abandoned in the grasses
Lain unstitched
Having me ponder
Life’s remains
A moment again
 
I stood and marveled in awe
What do I do with this little ones flesh
 
Leaves by its side called
As did the feathers fall
Along with last night's rose
Tucked inside my home
Beside the penny of luck found
And for this one lost
 
I am to carry this freshly taken life
To new ground where it shall decay
In dignity and peace
Below the Hawthorn tree
New buds for it to be and see
Where each day for now I will glance
As I am taken into another moments trance
Eyes upon a stand
Watching rabbits return to the fields grasses
Emptied of the night's rich furs and hunters teeth
They are not todays carcass
As I pour my cup of tea
Into a moment of stirred leaves
For an early knock to come to my door
Food delivered
A return of thanks
To flowers I left at theirs the night before
 
Into another place I fall
Enraptured in a moments call
​

This vision, my vision, is back good and strong. An aspect I have been aware of since neurosurgery. My glasses are void. My eyes have less pressure, less strain, less fuzz, more sight. Last week, six weeks on from the op, it was confirmed by the eye clinic.

I as ever am probably one of the most excited persons they have had arrive and leave. Practically singing the bottom line of letters and told how I read them better this time. Yay! I return to the waiting area and await the next stage of optic checks. Interact with fellow patients when it is possible in these current days of restrictions with masked, hidden faces. I look at the walls that hold scenes of the tropics and U.S. beaches. I consider the best way to get to one - the gorgeous West coast of Cornwall, home - as I am called for the optic nerve check. I give the doctor an update on my health as she brings the camera in front, scans both eyes, examines them and responds with a smile. 'They're looking perfectly healthy and pink. While you're here we'll inspect your field of vision and compare it to the test you had a few weeks before surgery."

To another location and seat I go. Wait with eagerness for a good little while - toe tapping, people scanning, sign reading - and then get called in. My chin goes upon a rest as I look into a dome. It is time for me to press a button as I spot the lights that come up, play dot to dot. Press quick, press hard, press eager, press excited. I can see. I can see more than before... A few minutes later I am back along the corridor and with the doctor who brings the results up on screen. She confirms this. Here is the evidence. Here is the proof. Here is a dream in its truth. I can see and oh gosh I smile and skip and wave my arms right now, here in this moment. Celebrate. Evidence with the truth.

My imagination and visions with eyes closed or open are on a wild. I play with shadows. Let sounds guide me to places and scenes. Follow colour trails from fingertips to trees. I play, play, play. The child and woman I am take hand and dance. Laugh wildly, purr stories and live every moment they are in; true. Words once whispered into my ears as a young teen return to me, "Be true to yourself." Gosh, it can take a lot to do such. Yet such enhances life with no measure.

Two days after the eye clinic I meandered by foot and bus to the swimming pool. Silver feather earrings tickle at my neck. Ones I wear for this travel so the child in me can listen to them play song in the waters. So the woman I am can hear what they have to say and write. I close and open my eyes in the pool for scenes to come and bring giggles, tickle at my ears, be the guide for this scene of life. 


I dip into waters and swim beneath through blue light. Listen to the dream catchers rattle with the drummers beat. Coaxing me to chant and sing through the currents, ripples and waves. For my voice to rise through the grasses, take to the skies. Feel the tickle and hum of fish as the toad croaks and bellows his chest. See light change to that of dusk where whispers become the word of the settling sun. And those of the moon dance the pools of the nights opera. I rest and play in this life's skin. For I am the conductor of my core. True. 


A week on, today, I am typing away as I buzz away. I share my absolute happiness with you. Although I do have my tired days. Two days ago I wept, flooded tears, with the touch of fresh air upon my cheeks unable to control my active mind which brought forth insecurities. With the wise words, love and touch of friends, walks in the fields, rest in long grasses, a wash in the reservoir, gentle yoga, settling meditation and the therapy of music I returned and let the fears go. Yesterday I rose grounded from good sleep and dreams leading into a day filled with the bliss of bringing smiles to the faces of others, illuminating mine. Today begins with fresh eyes, heart and lines. Today I share it all with you. Love.

P.S. The young blackbird I wrote about two weeks ago is back. She returned yesterday. Her right wing still looking a little ruffled. We sat next to one another in the garden. She came to my door while I busied inside. She munched away at seeds on the table while I ate mine. She made me smile with absolute delight. Gosh, she is back and sees me as a friend. To see her life in fruition reminds me of those I have seen lost on my recent walks. Those of birds and rabbits at different stages of birth, life, death, remains and decay. It is humbling. Here are this mornings words.
 
 
Piercing hole of life and death
Opened through beak, claws and teeth
Fur, feathers, skin and flesh
Chain of nature’s talk
Holding land walked
Of stone and grass
Streets and fields
Paved and open
Living day and night
Dawn and dusk
Teaching the fight of fear and fright
One's survivals must
Another's turn as dust
Piercing eyes of sky and ground beneath
Competing to catch and fly
Run the fastest in mortals law
Survive this day whole creatured
Or be the sustenance of beseeched
Royally plucked of feathers and fur