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PER MARE PER TERRAM

Chant du monde boréal
Shoormal.
Sandshifter, 60N.
Where it all makes sense.

CHRONICLES FROM ARCANIA

Preamble

Through Chronicles from Arcania, I shall attempt to share walks with you, this poetics from 60N, where I feel at one with our Earth, my sense of place so maritime.


Thursday, 8 April 2010

Arcania in the rainbow sky

Rushing away from washing line to rainbow sky

Light makes our home. Waking to blue, sliding on grey, dark indigo and back to more boreal azure... By the time we stopped at the top of my favourite hill, I looked towards the Atlantic, laced in grey silk. A front would re-paint our afternoon sky; the land down to the ocean hides all the passible treasures from spring. There in the land of the raven... Miles of mires, mirrors and dreams.


Light disappears nearly as fast as a galloping horse...

Everything changes. Birds turn silent as the wind talks. We all find shelter where we can... Under a patch of tussock grass, behind stone walls.
And then we hope it will not last.

And then I'm back in Arcania.

There,
from the heights of Arcania,
 where west wind rules this ravens' land, 
I live inside this rainbow sky
and watch rain come.
They say
2.5 miles till you reach out to horizon;
our sun dazzles patches of black,
mane of a maid tangled in kelp men don't believe in any more...
And feel the shapes of scissor-cliffs,
green pinnacles lost in a soup
grey-washy-blue,
ruled by a greater cosmic clock,
as I look down
to find you asleep in the sand.

© Nat Hall 2010


2 comments:

  1. The land of the raven, wonderful .... I love the light in that last photo, so magical

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  2. Thank you kindly, Juliet :)
    Hmmm, that hilltop holds a very special place in my heart - one of my favourite creative ones and ravens, yes :))

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