Solitude is being alone, the need to be alone, but there is nothing lonely about
solitude. Rather, it is time to yourself and high up on this river there is timeless
peace, innate tranquility.
The stream is busy yet there is peace even in that haste. Only gradient dictates
speed, even for calm water. Time is not a factor. It stands still here, has no meaning.
Water flows, but time and space stand still.
The World turns but these rocks remain. Brought here in ice, in an age long gone,
they stand now in time. They are still, content, un-caring. I talk to the rocks and
they listen. They hear me.
The birds and the animals are part of the river, even the insects, as much as the
fish. They pass through, touching the water and in time are gone. They use it, like
me, but leave it un-changed, in truth un-touched.
I take time here but in reality it is borrowed, not taken. Leave nothing but fleeting
warmth on the rock, soft prints in the moss. The river will wrap you in time, soothe
and comfort, will never let you go.
I watch this river. It runs through my days in a blink of time, yet all of life is
here. Just look, to see and to find. Take time, contemplate. Revelation is here,
more than you thought it could be.
Early days in tiny pebbles, washed and moved by the flow
Pushed around, wary of all, hide from the Kingfishers dive
Siblings abound, life competitive, risks to take for growths sake
And always a wary eye above, below, beyond
A Parr now, colours of mixed silver, brown and mottled flanks
perfect fish in miniature save for outsize fins that hint at future power
Chase every fly, every nymph, every fleeting chance of food
Happy abandon of youth, no cares, too small and too fast for the Otter