Now that we already had a full day of rain, now that the rowan berries are starting to line our pavements and I face the choice of either sporting my summer dresses or keeping my nose snot-free, it is high time to look back at how it all (meaning summer) started.
My creative friends: poets, play wrights, potters and musicians invited me to a haiku walk above Hebden Bridge, invitation that I was happy to accept.
Guided by the most experienced of us, we entered an enchanted valley where only birds lived, on ruins of abandoned barns above a cold river.
We came to a spot on which a photograph was taken that inspired Ted Hughes to write his poem “Six Young Men”
The idea of the walk was to stop at beautiful or otherwise significant places and to write haiku.
Here is mine:
It’s just me on a rock,
And a million drops,
And a billion bubbles
My friends were so engrossed in connecting with the spirit of the place, and with the spirit of poetry, that I had time to write another poem:
The river could have roared
Like the bulls of Zeus
And cascade, squirting,
Like the light rain of Zeus
Yet it flows
Like a river over rocks
That are like stones
Like a waterfall.
We followed our winding path and equally winding conversation, which flowed into nooks of anti-capitalism (Graham was preparing his poem about money for Edinburgh fringe Festival), bio rhythms and dreams. We looked warily at some bulls at the field, and with awe – at this white horse who appeared like an avatar of Pegasus on this plane of existence.
We ate wild garlic on a mossed bridge.
And admired bluebells – forest joys of our Northern English summer.
I’ve got the sun-
Says the right bank.
But I’ve got the shade –
Says the left bank.
And then we shared our creations over traditional English glass of water (Just kidding, we were actually innovators in drinking water rather than tea)