Dance of the Butterflies
A semi-circle bay of liquid turquoise
as still as a deep secret
and barely a sound as the languid waves touched the pebbled beach.
It was so much warmer than expected; unneeded layers draped over our arms.
Merlin panting; concerning us for lack of fresh water
until we found a Jurassic filtered stream.
All of us excited for his first trip to the sea
All of us excited for our first day to be free.
I’d only thought yesterday I was yet to see a butterfly,
but as we walked the stony track to the car
we saw a pair of them,
unidentifiable by their urgency.
Enchanted by each others’ spirit
they were trapped in their frenzied jive of spring.
Unable to leave each other, or to leave the dance
Unable to be completely released; unable to take the chance.
Whispers of the Stones
Imagining recollections of the lives of here
The way they felt; the joy, the fear
The mundane, their day to day
The colours of spring, the winter grey
The salty breezes absorbed in their bones
Their secrets and memories whispered by the stones
I’ve started an art journal! And these are the words I wrote to go with the mixed media art I came up with. It was all inspired by the first time we were allowed to leave the house for actual fun! We went to Tyneham Village – an abandoned place where everyone was evacuated for the Second World War, and weren’t allowed back. A short walk from there is Worbarrow Bay; and with the sun shining, the sea really did look turquoise. If you’d like to see our day out, I have started back on YouTube again, and it’s in this week’s video:
