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.
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.
Bethan loves the tales of life. From a moment of truth to the journeys we create with our wanders and imagination.