After spending the afternoon working on the camp, the light faded and the full moon rose. As things began to fall quiet in the twilight, I wandered over towards her radiant beauty, to spend a few silent moments of reflection with her. The first tree I stopped at contained a barn owl, who silently swooped off to watch from a tree on the further edge. At the edge of the field, my ears filled with the roar of traffic on the motorway, the rest of the world speeding on and on, engrossed in the mundane world, oblivious to the peaceful camp, the warm laughter of friends coming from the tea-hut and me sat quietly by the hedge, singing softly to the moon. As the moon rose above the hedgerow, three wrens chased each other along the tangle of hawthorn branches. The smallest of birds, their song filled the darkening sky, above the din of the traffic. There is no need to be the biggest, or the loudest, if your song is true and pure, those who have ears will listen. Moorhens chasing each other across the water drew my attention to the pond, so I walked over, and saw her there, glowing gently through the branches of the oak tree, and reflecting back from the still water on the pond. Quietly I whispered to her, my hopes and my prayers for the camp and the people living here, noting the chill in the air, the ice on the water, and the stiffening grass beneath my feet. When our shared moments were over, I collected up the few bits of debris that had blown into the hedgerow, and walked back over to the shacks, it was time for me to go, as I waited at the gate, putting on clean boots and whispering farewell to her, a delivery of logs arrived, and I silently said thank you for the care and generosity of the people around us.
Posted on: Sun, 04 Jan 2015 18:23:27 +0000
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