Thursday, June 07, 2007

Twilight

It's 9.55pm. The sky is the colour of a Collar Dove's wing; soft and pink-grey. Not a breathe of wind either. Air, leaf, branch and blade are still. The cobweb of dark that is Night drops into the stillness and over my shoulders. Damp.

Up on the little field a Pheasant shrieks fear and dread at the dying of the day. There's a Thrush too, up in one of the sycamores, melodious, repetitive and why?

Badnage Wood is black - from its borders, from the streams and dingles, clefts, nests and crevices come creeping, stirring, snufflin' those night creatures - pressing cold noses into hedge bottoms and through damp grass. Be on your guard all you things that scamper, squirm and sliver: beetle and worm, mouse, snail and slug - the warm licking tongues and crunching jaws of Messrs. Badger and Fox are but a bite away.

It's the chill around my shoulders that eventually brings me indoors - but also (and only a little bit) the thought that out there somewhere in the gloaming is a something bigger than me.

5 comments:

mutterings and meanderings said...

Oooh... never thought it as sinister atop your mountain ...

Mya said...

Sounds familiar.Beautifully conveyed.

Pondside said...

What could that something bigger be? Best not to find out. Get inside and draw the curtains!

UN PEU LOUFOQUE said...

there you ar mountaneer on your hillside in wales and now you too ahve been tagged by me... go out and met the world..

snailbeachshepherdess said...

very evocative just looked over to your hill from mine as I walked the dog...I wonder which twinkling light is yours