So, Suffolk...Walberswick to Dunwich, where the sea swallowed the shore. And back again. UnHobbitlike. No gold found. Just a hagstone. Good luck, they say. Oh really, I say.
Oh whistle and I'll come to you, my lad...
They might be giants...sand silhouettes...
A stand of trees, a stripe of shore, a slim slither of sea...
The marshes...the cry of a curlew... There is someone coming...a warning to the curious?
Slow water, lazy eels of streams. What was that film, the one set on a canal that turns into a river that turns into the sea? That image of the lost, beyond lonely, heading to oblivion?
A cross selfie - a woman of straw sans substance.
5 comments:
So poetic, I loved this Jane,
Beautiful lines, and this:
... house of brick and straw, on land barely there, broken-armed by air, level-licked by water, leans against the sky...which lets it fall ...
Poignant reminder - the erosion of time's artefacts, a clearing for the new.
Wishing you a peaceful Christmas time and abundant blessings.
Jane, I so enjoyed this post. You've visited a place that has long roused my curiosity. I also hope to someday have my own visit.
I might have to send you some more detailed questions about where and when are good times to travel there.
Again, thank you for these very fine pictures and words. xo
That last picture — the shadow of The Wicker Woman, perchance?
Blessings and Bear hugs!
I always look forward for this type of information. Please keep sharing. Thanks.
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