Working on my writing today, I had a moment of joy after transcribing & then randomising my mountain record journal, and seeing what came from that.
Some strange (very strange) and heart-catching beauty has been revealed, and I feel like I can do something wonderful with bits of it, (ie. combining parts of the text with my drawings or prints, as part of my book of the mountain).
Here are three examples:
Golden light, ravens, later
Surpassing beautiful. Sky
in flocks, closing the day low
Such cold. Such
water, black peat opened
All quiet and softened
on its shoulders. Colours
high blue clear.
Or
Sea breeze.
East. Northwind cold like a knife
Stillness. A raven lifting up
moon through haze. Quiet and
on the other side.
but it must be the clouds
Darkening.
lit as we leave.
Or
glooming.
Storm coming tonight.
yellow to blue above.
south of west, north of
West. All dampness. Colours
out the voices of the others.
and gorse, greens and reds bruised
glow up as the light dims.
Paying respect to this, the
beauty. What does it mean?
High cloud, brittle ice,
Sun setting yellow
in us.
sian barlow 