take my hand and climb with me…

one hundred and twenty degrees: ‘sing to me hope…’

Fair ~ Remy Zero

one hundred and twenty

Wind, blown. Late summer, siren. Swirls through fields, veld. Me. Hawk seeking, refuge. Oak tree, embrace. My mind, wanders. Again. Tendrils, quicksilver. Fine ether, threads. Weft, and weave. These holographic, sigils. Meter, memory. Meta, and mile. How is it, you’re still? Here.

So what if you catch me…

9 comments on “one hundred and twenty degrees: ‘sing to me hope…’

  1. sjchambers50
    January 28, 2013

    I love and enjoy (I guess they’re the same) your poetry. Not being much of a writer, and even less poet, your words speak to me. Thank you.

    • circulartree
      January 29, 2013

      Thank you for using your words so generously: your kind comment means so much to me! I think we all have poetic souls 😉 Lots of love, Bx

  2. countingducks
    January 29, 2013

    Wow. That’s a corker. wouldn’t I love to be sitting there enjoying that view

    • circulartree
      January 29, 2013

      Thank you Peter, I love this view… but boy! was it windy yesterday. Had to sit inside and take this shot through the front door. Outdoors is like a giant tumble dryer!

  3. anisjarossi
    January 29, 2013

    Very nicely done. Your is a very interesting Blog.

    • circulartree
      January 29, 2013

      Thank you so much Anis – I loved yours: you’ve captured some truly beautiful images!

      • anisjarossi
        January 30, 2013

        Many thanks from my part for your kind comment.

  4. seanbidd
    January 31, 2013

    I can remember a morning, scrambling up the remnants of a weathered volcanic plug, where the Hoop Pine sway to the song-lines of the morning breeze, while intruding upon two Wedge-tails, casting their shadows on the wing upon one another as, they ride the thermals in the blue of a Spring morning. Caressing the updrafts with, tender adjustments to climb higher each moment, searching for the sunrise. Before time awakens the land beneath them, the late spring frost, and the scents of the night dissipate… These are the moments reminded of, by the refuge seeking hawk and the oak tree embrace… Freedom and refuge upon the wing.

    • circulartree
      January 31, 2013

      Beautiful! Absolutely love the line: sway to the song-lines. Such an aptly lyrical way to describe flight… May the wings of sunrise bless your eyes as you wake, Bx

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This entry was posted on January 28, 2013 by in Summer and tagged , , , , , , .


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