This Creative Life

There were holes in

This one wonderful creative life

It had got a little threadbare

Over the years

In need of darning


A light had dimmed

And now, I’m adding threads

Wild snatches of music

Experienced from the inside

Part of a circle of people playing

For themselves and for each other

Sharing tunes and memories

And weaving a richer life

The warp and weft of friendships


Stories, rhythms, rhymes

And the hills of the Lake District

My hills

And a scattering of colour, paint on canvas,

Feeling the lines and texture flow from the brush in my hand

The peace of deep, relaxed movement

Taking time to reconnect

The wake of a canoe across the lake

Adding a silvery thread

All combining

All absolutely necessary

Now I know what I’ve been missing

All of this is what I need

Now there are no threadbare patches left

In the tapestry that is

This creative life

Waiting for inspiration

I have been wondering where my next painting will come from,

When I’ll feel like picking up my brushes again.

I don’t force it,

Inspiration can come in waves, or drops,

It trickled through this weekend,

First, a glimpse of a dusty canvas,

A feeling that I’d like to play with paint on it,

But not knowing what the subject would be.

Then, brightening up breakfast, goldfinches on the bird feeder.

Later, out birding,  I glimpsed a tawny owl, roosting in a tree.

I watched a kingfisher, blue and orange among ochre reeds,

It caught three silvery fish while I watched.

And then, through my binoculars, a close up of branches and yellow lichen,

Mossy greens, rich browns and an idea takes shape,

The perfect background on which to paint