‘I want to write a poem’ never works for me. I have to wait. I have to go to the places where inspiration lies. Sometimes I glimpse it quietly sleeping in a grey sky full of rain, or shouting for attention through the flowers and birds. Sometimes I glimpse it within myself and I have to be quiet enough to hear it. A blog post from a writer I admire sparks a train of thought, or I glimpse an old quote in a book, inspiration travelling across time and space. Or I walk. Usually I just walk, and the world nudges me into attention.
and the arrow-straight splashing dives of gannets.
It’s that time of year when every bit of warm sunshine is savoured. The air is cooler now, the wind is blowing from the north, but out of the wind the sun is still hot. We sat in the sun on the Mull of Galloway, sharing the end of summer with the birds. Soon they will be leaving, the kittiwakes out to sea, the swallows, house martins and gannets heading south for warmer climes. A day to remember, sunshine,warmth and memories to light us through the winter darkness ahead.