Close by the ford
down Longcroft Lane
from shouting meadow
he rises, dances skyward
to an invisible summit.
Black on azure
flickering atom
suspended on filament
cobweb-fine, drips peals
of tiny glass bells
pitch rising, falling
tumbling, a cascade
of summer song
formless yet formed
without verse
chorus
or middle eight
yet somehow knowable.
For an hour he sends
but never receives.
Coded intelligence
secrets for unseen ears
wordless bulletin
of Trinity rapture.
Julian Beach :: Writing 
Oh, quite masterful!
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Bless you, Nathalie!
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So beautiful, Julian, and it brings back many memories of the 1970s, when we lived in Wantage. There were always skylarks to be seen along the Ridgeway. It sounds as though Stoneyford was the same. Lovely imagery, as always. I could hear that lark singing down Longcroft Lane.
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I love the Ridgeway, Millie. One of these days I’ll get around to walking all of it.
Thank you for your generous remarks.
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Sadly it’s years since I’ve heard a lark sing, except however on the radio! Twice this week in fact!
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I have a dream of buying a meadow, John.
Maybe next year…
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Splendid piece. Catches the lilt and raise of the bird on the wing and of its song!
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Thank you, David!
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“wordless bulletin
of Trinity rapture”
How beautiful.
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☺️
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