The Habit of Light...



An opulence of beeswax and light...Tahilla Farm

I discovered a poem today.
I read it once, twice..
and I know it won't be the last.

Do you see anyone in these words? 
Grandmother, aunt, sister, 
mother, friend...
yourself?

It has a way about it.

The Habit of Light

In the early evening she liked to switch on the lamps
in corners, on low tables, to show off her brass,
her polished furniture, her silver and glass.
At dawn she'd draw all the curtains back for a glimpse
of the cloud-lit sea. Her oak floors flickered
in an opulence of beeswax and light.
In the kitchen, saucepans danced their lids, 
the kettle purred on the Aga, supper on its breath 
and the buttery melt of a pie, 
and beyond the swimming glass of old windows,
in the deep perspective of the garden, 
a blackbird singing,
she'd come through the bean rows in tottering shoes,
her pinny full of strawberries, 
a lettuce, bringing the palest potatoes in a colander, 
her red hair bright with her habit of colour, 
her habit of light.

Gillian Clarke


In the deep perspective of the garden...Tahilla Farm

With thanks to Francine from Québec for 
enhancing the light of my day by sending me this..




Music by Alexandra Streliski 

I have listened to it once, twice..
and I know it won't be the last.

Jeanne xx

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