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January 28, 2004
the descent
And, like the arrival of the swifts and swallows on a late summer evening – sky waning into the warm blood orange of a lost sun, the muse descends. Fluttering and swooping with such delicious intimate spirit that it is almost dangerous. The creative promise is such that normal senses are put on hold and the moment is held, savoured, tasted, re-tasted, toasted, [tested] remembered and stored away safe in the soft corners of the right side.
There is a possibility again, a release, a window flung open upon the weather, whatever the weather, flung open on torrential rain thick snow deep frost hot sun, no matter. The window’s open, the big brushes are out.
Don’t say you don’t get the veg and gravy here.
Posted by john at January 28, 2004 08:43 AM
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