Cooler Morning And The World So Still

A Silent Sunday


   A cool start to this June Sunday, not a breath blows over the fens, no clear blue sky to light up our morning nor sunshine to warm our backs, just a cool still start to the day here in the magical lands of marsh and dyke. While great grey heron stalk the river banks and reed beds this bead maker enjoys his morning tea with watching eyes that glean that early world that nature brings, tiny open mouthed chicks that fill their nest and fledglings that hop from branch to branch with young wings beating awaiting the next feed from beaks that overflow with grubs and fly, smiles sit upon his face as spring goes about her business and thoughts of long wooded walks wonder his mind.
   A day of work does face this man of fire today, molten glass will wrap his rods of steel and beads will form from colours of bright summer, ideas will play his mind like blue grass fingers on banjo strings, all of which he wants to try but time will never be enough and some will pass his thoughts forgotten to the next.
   His barn now empty of the old awaits the fresh start where new faces will enter the door and laugh and smile while fingers run through bowls of beads, again the barn will live and welcome as it should and this hermit will meet again those who love the glass, too long a time as passed without the sounds of voices around his flames and soon it will return.