Slivery Moon
20/12/09 17:16
Turn right along the edge towards Ringmore. Across
the valley to the left Burrator dam, waterfalls made
miniature by distance. My eyes cup the tiny landscape
and hold the view. Three small rough-haired ponies
hide out in the carpark by the cottage; swollen
bellies, chestnut, black and white-brown. Head off
down the lefthand fork, single track towards
Sheepstor village, rivers of ice skidding across the
tarmac as the weight of water squeezes out of the
grass crown of the moor. Auburn bracken crumbled into
crystal green.
Just below the horizon sight connects distant-there-then to present-here-now. When middle ground is absent through topography or focus, vision is held within, embodied; a far view of external-landscape becomes an interior-miniature. Space collapses, tumbles into the eye, and becomes time: the distance rings with future/past - where one will be and what was once. The lace curtains of icy water tumbling over the dam and my looking are inverted, reversed.
Hang out the washing. Nearly dark. Peg the cold wet clothes to the line as three blackbirds scare each other in the thin blue dusk. A curl of moon high in the south beyond the phone lines, scratchy Jupiter nearby.
Just below the horizon sight connects distant-there-then to present-here-now. When middle ground is absent through topography or focus, vision is held within, embodied; a far view of external-landscape becomes an interior-miniature. Space collapses, tumbles into the eye, and becomes time: the distance rings with future/past - where one will be and what was once. The lace curtains of icy water tumbling over the dam and my looking are inverted, reversed.
Hang out the washing. Nearly dark. Peg the cold wet clothes to the line as three blackbirds scare each other in the thin blue dusk. A curl of moon high in the south beyond the phone lines, scratchy Jupiter nearby.