Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.
|Dark rocks keeping the sea at bay and the town safe|
Exploring Mary Oliver's poetry yesterday and came across the above poem, we have heard the geese flying over several times in the last few days, perhaps bad weather is on the way.
Sunday morning, and we wake up to a misty morning, today in about an hour we will start the drive to Whitby, I'm packed, but LS takes ages for everything to be quite right. I shall leave the doves handfuls of seed, but it will soon be gone and they must forage elsewhere for the coming week. We go to see the cottage we like and on which we have an offer, but there are a couple more LS wants to see as well, it is probably going to be a busy time, no driving over to Todmorden this time to see the family, though the housing market of course will become very quiet as we head towards Christmas.