Northern Sunset

Drifting towards the horizon.
Drifting towards the horizon.

A week up in the North of England, an evening stroll and a camera. Just a few shots from this set, all the time I have to get them ready. Tomorrow I head home, always a good direction to head in. At the end of this post, as it’s National Poetry Day, I have a short piece for you to read, let me know what you think.

Blue sunset.
Blue sunset.

It is always amazing how much things can change over a few minutes from oranges to blues and deepening into grey and black.

Black and White Sunset.
Black and White Sunset.

For National Poetry Day.

Being Somewhere

Being displaced, different,
I am North, an unknown.
I am a stranger.

Every word is a dislocation,
     an admission,
I am not of here,
of hills and dark walls,
of strange names.

Each night I sleep, wait
     for the sun,
wait for my shadow to fall
behind me. To wait for one day.
     To wake,
       and I am home.


Tidal Flow.

Beach Mist
Beach Mist

Some days you go to the sea and there is nothing there, mist hangs along the promenade and covers everything with a cold sweat. The sun doesn’t even bother to try, just drips light slowly into the grey.

Other days, the cold wind sweeps everyone along yet the wide horizon can stop you in its tracks as the sun dips below the horizon, clouds bubble across to add depth while the colours range far and wide through the spectrum of visibility. Despite the cold there are many of us who stand and watch, trying to catch the changing image in our mind.

Sunset, gone but dragging the colour slowly behind.
Sunset, gone but dragging the colour slowly behind.
Bird Watching, go for a walk at anytime, and see what's out there.
Bird Watching, go for a walk at anytime, and see what’s out there.

When the tide goes out here, the sea leaves the country, Weston-super-Mare has one of the highest tidal ranges in the world. The open expanse draws you out towards the edge, not really the sea perhaps, who knows where the Severn river ends and Atlantic begins. You could almost walk to sunset, get pulled over the horizon like the colours and the light. But be wary, the mud is deep and unforgiving.


Who You Are.

It’s about your eyes,
the smile that lingers long after the moment,
I carry each one with me.

The Seaside.

You could walk all the way out from here,
let the tide take you,
but don’t chase the sunset, always one step away.

This morning the Cherry tree broke out in white blossom, we’ve been watching it, waiting for the buds to break, yet they still catch us out and arrive en mass, snow blossom in the rain this morning. In the hills and valleys, covering damp verges, the Snowdrops are out. Soon other flowers will follow the blossom and the Snowdrops, go out and look for them, lift your spirits with the return of long days and wild flowers.