Photo by Luke Jones on Unsplash By Mark Binmore Sitting under Father Oak, I ask him to speak to me again. Sounds of the earth swallow my pride. I hear the throb of grass crickets and the hum of the air. Birds sing distinctively in the sky and the clouds sweep softly by, supported on the breeze. A church bell ring across acres of high summer grasses. It is late in the season and I can smell the dusty scent of autumn. Soon, Father Oak will shed his leaves and I will watch them turn golden and rust as they fall and become a soft blanket for me to rest on. The earth is strong, caked hard by the mellow September sun. Berried bushes are bowed with the burden of their ripe fruits, thistles climb up above their sister grass, their purple heads watching me from day to day. Soon autumn will commence. The equinox tide will come in, and then day and night will become equal. Mother Brede and Lady Arianrhod of the silver harvest moon speak gently to me in the sweeps and gusts of the breeze as it caresses the treetops. They tell me to return to Avalon, to place the chalice at their disposal and let my friend proceed ahead with the sword. So, I have returned full circle to the hub of the year where the primeval heart beats and pulses, its veins and arteries running into my soul. This is where I sit under Father Oak and listen to September. AuthorMark Binmore (born 1971) is an award winning British novelist, author of 'Sad Confetti', 'Beautiful Deconstruction' 'Everything Could Be So Perfect' 'Sunsets Etc.' and many other books. In 2015 Mark was ranked one of Britain's 100 new influential LGBTQ writers.
1 Comment
Chris
2/12/2021 14:09:27
Beautifully described. A real sense of the words as you sit and listen. It reads like the writer has a decision to make so is taking time out to think and understand. Great to see read a different side of Marks work.
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