Poem: Gökotta

Surrounded by the majesty, that is unspoiled nature.
Above, is draped a most beautiful azure canopy, that lightens by the moment.
And, there I sit in the glade of Elveden,
gazing wistfully at the lake,
looking into the mid-distance. Pondering. Waiting. Musing.
Morpheus surely reigns?

Morning mist hovers above the lake
not yet scorched by the sun,
which slumbers yet still, below the horizon,
but which marches ever closer.
Air of Imminence.

In the fog, imagination runs amok.
Birdsong from afar masks, almost, what seems to be
the sound of children playing, children laughing.
Is it the drowsiness of solitude, of the moment?
Or elementals all around, unseen, and yet chattering to each other
greeting the birth of a new day?
Pleasant unknowing.

The grass bends, flowers sway gently.
And yet the mist remains.
Could this be an, as yet, unregistered breeze
or faeries jumping from flower to flower?
The Talmud declares that each blade of grass has its own angel
whose sole purpose is to whisper, ‘Grow, grow.’
Sancta simplicitas.

And, then the day begins.
The son of Hyperion rises on the horizon
in all his brilliance, and
pierces the mist,
and heralds the start of a new day.
The Sun appears.
I find myself standing in awe, in praise of the Sun of righteousness.

The birdsong increases,
a dog appears, a whistle is heard
and then its owner comes near.
The laughter of elementals or angels
grows ever distant, as other things ‘crowd in’.
Crowded out.

Could it have been idle thoughts,
my imagination?
Could it have been angel-song?
Or, could it have been that in the clearing of Elveden,
that ancient den of elves,angel 01 PIXABAY cupid-31853_1280
that elementals had truly been at play?
Alone with the Alone!

[Reflections at 4.50am, Capel Curig, Wales]

Note: Gökotta is a Swedish word, and the closest English meaning is: to wake up early in the morning to go outside to hear the first birds sing.

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