It took just a few very unsure, apprehensive minutes to another unknown destination. Not knowing why we follow a trail, but when we do, that few minutes can be the start of a strange journey, with the most rewarding of realisations.
To follow the trail…….
9.30pm. Take the soft footsteps from the dropping poppies across the path, to the worn pine needles of the falling giant at the end of the street. Round their corner, where the monkey puzzle tree lives, veer left around the bend,
Look right, look left and right again to the white birch on the green patch. Then look up.
Remember, there was a breeze, but the clouds did not move and you could not work out why. If a motionless sky could be prepared for Constable to paint it, this will be it.
Permission to be amazed is only ever a temporary grant, but it can happen many times, and then the reason why the clouds did not move whilst the air definitely did waft above your skin and brush with the trees, will begin to appear.
Because around that road bend, there is another curvature. A generously sized crescent moon makes a double entrance, once, a grand appearance when you least expected it, but twice because it was always there. Straight ahead, centre street, balanced above the trees, it hangs. All one has to do is to turn that corner to see it. A glorious luminesce underlined with an intense watery signature of a thunderous deep, smoky blue cloudband. This will be stretching its might across the horizon, some 240,000 miles below.
But In microseconds, the great universe is on the move again. Is that La Luna cutting down through the clouds as a great laser scythe with precision and purpose in surgery, or is it the clouds rising to serve as a cloak to provide rest, protection and secrecy for this enchanting host? No one will ever be sure of where the fine boundaries of “what is” and “maybe”, starts and finishes. In the blink of a light second, that once mighty river of cloud will have slipped its guise without notice and into a vapoury and spidery nebula, revealing the moon to become clearly visible once again.
The illusion of encroaching darkness is that it makes the brightness of light more intense, yet it is darkness that will provide the most surprising revelations. In the universe’s own time, a crescent journey of half-light is able to illumine a trio of seasons in one night, where autumnal mountain ash and wintry holly now appear in the same solar breath as summer fuchsia.
Only with such a liquid light and on an airy evening, do Autumn and Winter dare emerge with their outlined, but defined presence on the edge of Summer, but in the vacuum of impossibility, through a curve in one night of the universe, there are those dual moments when everything makes sense and nothing really matters, and nothing makes sense and everything matters.
On a curve, everything and the very thing is on the edge.
Allow your mind to take you there.