Thoughts about fog, the day before my blood test results
When I see things veiled by fog, or mist, I feel as though the familiar world is dissolving - the secret worlds, usually hidden, start to show themselves - familiar streets become pathways to a hidden city - cars driving through banks of fog are craft emerging from another dimension - the headlight beams of the Rav 4 I see in the car park are yellow space rays, piercing my mind -
We live in an old school house, dating from the 1870's - next to our driveway is a church built in 1828 - you can see the gravestones and a box tomb when you sit down for coffee in the conservatory - a kestrel perches on the church tower's crenellations, waiting for mice - moles tunnel under the turf -
A few hundred yards away the River Frome runs through the water meadows - cows are pastured there during the summer - we once saw a man with a basket of eels, collected from a trap placed under the bridge - the slender writhing eels glistened and seethed in the basket -
A large shaggy horse sometimes grazes in the field near the level crossing, our side of the river - I think that he must be lonely, for he always shambles over to see us when we pass his field - there's often another horse with him -
When the valley is filled with grey fog, the river flows into a blurred dreamy space - I imagine a wooden barge, with white figures upon it, drifting into this particular secret world - the water meadows dissolve into a wash of grey -
The friendly horse looks at me closely from within the fog - I am aware of his concerned gaze - I wonder if he is aware of my fears - of how the ordinary can become the extraordinary with just a word -
I remember how my blood shone in the vials - the skilful nurse placed the glass vials into a plastic bag for the Path Lab - I am aware of my fear like something half hidden in the fog, some beautiful or strange shape starting to show itself -
When I see things veiled by fog, or mist, I feel as though the familiar world is dissolving - the secret worlds, usually hidden, start to show themselves - familiar streets become pathways to a hidden city - cars driving through banks of fog are craft emerging from another dimension - the headlight beams of the Rav 4 I see in the car park are yellow space rays, piercing my mind -
We live in an old school house, dating from the 1870's - next to our driveway is a church built in 1828 - you can see the gravestones and a box tomb when you sit down for coffee in the conservatory - a kestrel perches on the church tower's crenellations, waiting for mice - moles tunnel under the turf -
A few hundred yards away the River Frome runs through the water meadows - cows are pastured there during the summer - we once saw a man with a basket of eels, collected from a trap placed under the bridge - the slender writhing eels glistened and seethed in the basket -
A large shaggy horse sometimes grazes in the field near the level crossing, our side of the river - I think that he must be lonely, for he always shambles over to see us when we pass his field - there's often another horse with him -
When the valley is filled with grey fog, the river flows into a blurred dreamy space - I imagine a wooden barge, with white figures upon it, drifting into this particular secret world - the water meadows dissolve into a wash of grey -
The friendly horse looks at me closely from within the fog - I am aware of his concerned gaze - I wonder if he is aware of my fears - of how the ordinary can become the extraordinary with just a word -
I remember how my blood shone in the vials - the skilful nurse placed the glass vials into a plastic bag for the Path Lab - I am aware of my fear like something half hidden in the fog, some beautiful or strange shape starting to show itself -
Lovely, Chris. Thinking of you tomorrow
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jay!
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