Water Spearwort Down the throat of the waterfall the torrents sluice the earth clean pouring all ways into a cauldron with such a frenzy of power that causes only chaos yet finds a way out into one current while high on the edge of a mossy rock spearwort leans over, maybe to see how deep it is or wash its petals in the spray, or perhaps just buffeted there by a natural force then finds there is no way back so, before all this white fury - leaves, stalk, and a yellow flower opened out like a tiny parachute at the end of the curve.
Waiting for it to happen two pines dancing coat-tails trailing in near symmetry two pines alone in the snow leaning towards each other never quite touching
Simon writes: These poems and accompanying photographs are taken from a book An Invitation which is a collaboration between myself and photographer Amoghavira over a period of seven years or so. It’s located in the glen of Balquhidder on the edge of the Trossachs in Scotland. The area is known as a thin place, one that is special, magical, where the boundary between heaven and earth is particularly thin or in Celtic times where there is a thinning of the boundary between our world and the faery world, in either case making it easier to pass from one to the other. It is Rob Roy country, his retreat house situated at the head of the glen and his body buried in the village churchyard. The Braes of Balquhidder is a well known traditional song written by poet-weaver Robert Tannahill, now better known as ‘Wild mountain thyme’ covered by The Byrds and many others. Both Amoghavira and I enjoy spending time in the surrounding hills and by loch Voil opening up to their beauty and those special moments of letting go when you can be really present in the landscape. Hopefully the poems and photographs capture some of that experience. Many of the poems were written as a direct response to the images but some were composed in the actual place and the photographs came second.