Monday, 20 September 2010

found


I always wonder about the things I see. Sometimes I'm even lucky enough to have my camera with me when I see something that strikes me as wistful, or beautiful, or strange, or worth remembering. Sometimes (and I'm thinking about that abandoned yellow house that I pass every day going to and fro from work that sits in that lovely shaggy field) I have to remember and go back, and often the light has changed or the story isn't the same, and the urge? muse? flees.



Without whimsy, without cartoon eyes and ears and fairies, I believe:

That a tree, chopped down and hurled in chunks on the forest floor, senses the pieces of itself near, and it is comforted. When the splitter roars, the wood screams silently, gaping, choked, horrified cries, and then quiets when stacked, lulled by the proximity of itself, even in pieces.

4 comments:

Woman in a Window said...

Oh my. Wonderful writing, Jess. Do you really believe this? I'm not so sure, but I'm quite happy to read your write of it.

How are you? Hope well.

xo
erin

Magpie said...

I wonder those things too. Why is that tub there, so askew?

blackbird said...

oh!
so profound of you...and I mean that sincerely.

kyooty said...

That was very deep!