Microcosmic

A barn owl mist. I gave the view out of the window one last look before drawing the curtains on the day. Then.... I'd seen plenty of mist but never like this. A pearly shawl draped over atmosphere. It was as if all the particles in all the gaps  had been painted white. A dream of mist.  Thick enough to hide secrets. To lose memories in. Maybe it had vented up from an underworld of snow's afterlife. It looked barely real -  dry ice pumped onto a stage. but as a herald for what.... Then I saw it. A crack must have opened to let the barn owl in  white side up ghost side down mothborne from another world An owl's vapour Slipped into it, tilted out of it. Became it. An owl made from it.. Fog matadored bird, that created then dissolved back into murk. A dance of back and forth. Just as the owl was a mist owl so the mist was a barn owl mist.   As if there were a cloud - essence of  barn owl swirling over the ground.  So concentrated at its core that it manifested a pirouetting but

I’ve walked on the small corner of our planet – the one I call ‘my patch’ – maybe a thousand times. I’ve crossed this unexceptional parcel, when health allows, many times over the last few years. The same path from the cemetery on to the old abandoned golfcourse - nothing to see here. The track that becomes muddy after rain and seems want to stay muddy long after dryness has come back into fashion. But hang on... It’s never been muddy *quite* like this. I’ve had to skirt round it clinging to dry parts – but never *quite* in this way. And look at those thistles, that arrangement of flowers crossed with medieval weapons, one in front, two behind. And the way they seem to slide past the willows at the back, as I walk by – I’ve never, ever seen that – it's a totally new thing. What about that beech tree trunk with its network of byways made of darker bark as it dries out after rain. They'll soon go and only I will ever see these, and only now will I see them just like this.

This Skylark will change your life - no really! On my patch walk, I saw a skylark perched on a wall. I stopped to watch it for a while and took a photograph. It occurred to me that this bird has changed my life. All the subsequent moments after seeing the lark would have been slightly different had it not been there. And all those lark-rearranged causes and conditions will continue to cascade into the future. But what about the Skylark. It was only there, at that place and that time, because of a host of factors. That insect, would have influenced it – the one that laid its eggs, hatching into lark food….and that insect foodplant… And so it goes on. A ‘world wide web’ – an infinity of interconnections. Ripples on ripples. A friend on Facebook kindly posted a link to an article he thought would interest me. This reminded me of a documentary I’d seen before, which I then re-watched. My life will never be quite the same simply because of the handful of keystrokes and cli