Pockets of air, hue of mint icecream,
clean.
air in spades, deep breaths,
they are there
serendipitously in the grass
appearing on branches over your head
a cushion, to keep from floating,
keep you there.
in the hushed retreat, birds doing their thing<
wrestling over food,
busy busy while I’m not.
Listening, breathing,
simple quiet.
They are there.
crinkled, infinitely fine and each to their own, just being.
they just need air.
undisturbed space, little wanderings of wildlife<
a person swinging, sun and hail pattering, coming, going.
A constant,
They are there.
LAND ART WITH LICHEN
When I placed that single piece in the middle of the bell tent standing, I grieved. It was a lone piece.
I thought of a baby lost, former self isolated, past sadness. All I’d lost.
It needed the slate to ground it, to give it space, not floating. It needed to just be there for a while.
It needed a stage, a quiet stage where it could be seen and it could feel the air, and where wildlife and the wind could move it.
[info about Land Art : The Tate]
Exploration at The Hide artist retreat.
