Sitting here upon an old sarsen stone on the hilltop over looking the river valley, I reflect on the true wondrousness of Nature and her infinite beauty.
Albeit early November, the heavy rains and recent high winds have taken their toll on the trees and bushes in view.
Much foliage has been washed or blown away leaving large portions of the fauna appearing comparatively skeletal beneath the setting Sun.
A fresh breeze struck up bringing the heavy earthy smell of sodden mulch to my nostrils, instantly whisking me away to my childhood playing hide and seek amongst the bracken in the local woods.
The Sun lower in the sky now, creating a deep amber glow across the horizon, casting the illusion of rivers of fiery lava between the slender stretches of cloud.
The fields, trees and hedges appearing to glow with new life under the gaze of the last vestiges of muted auric sunlight.
A couple of acer trees, their leaves seemingly ablaze with ethereal vitality as if in defiance at the ending of the day.
Even the trunks and limbs of a row of nearby elm trees appear blood red in the evening light.
A murder of rooks overhead caw loudly out to each other as if also in protest at the demise of the day, restricting their hunting until the morning sunrise.
In moments such as this, I easily lose my sense of self amongst the rich and exquisite tapestry of Nature’s views, smells and sounds.
I am the buzzard circling majestically, high above the ground, acutely aware of any movement below.
I am one of the ancient Yews that circle the hilltop, bearing silent intuitive witness to the seasons passing.
I am the cold crumbling stone masonry of the old castle, built aeons ago in the dim mists of time.
I am also this very earth, porous and yielding to the elements above yet an ever present memory to the thousands of years of history enacted upon me.
Any hint of separation of myself and all that is, was and will be has been lost forever. For I am too destined to always be an eternal part of life on Earths great cosmic dance.