18 November 2012
Walked in the evening in the park. The sun sets by 5.30 pm, or thereabouts, and the path gradually disappears into shadow. The verdure wall on my left, as I walk into the setting orange orb, blackens into a two-dimensional silhouette, above which, an incandescent sickle of silver glows ineffectually, and the western immensity of merging elements—the earth and the sky—into darkness, burns in the afterglow of a dying fire.
Invariably, at such moments of time in the mingling light and dark, the invisible, goggle-eyed stone curlew, anticipating the darkness for which its large eye was forged, lets forth its sharp, piping whistle, nervous giggle, if you will, and dreams of cloak and dagger hunts in utter darkness. It rises above the din all around, piercing the cool air like Nature was sounding taps … only here not signalling the end of day, and ensuring a safe night, but a beginning, for those like this goggle-eyed plover, whose life's activities begin during the hours that remain, largely, mysterious to mankind.
It thrills the marrow in me, that clarion, for I recognise a larger circle of life than my fellow walkers are aware of. It elevates my spirit at the ability of Nature to survive despite heavy odds.
I walk safe in the light-split, sound-split air, happy to bear witness to one world awakening, and another trundling towards end of day.
Walked in the evening in the park. The sun sets by 5.30 pm, or thereabouts, and the path gradually disappears into shadow. The verdure wall on my left, as I walk into the setting orange orb, blackens into a two-dimensional silhouette, above which, an incandescent sickle of silver glows ineffectually, and the western immensity of merging elements—the earth and the sky—into darkness, burns in the afterglow of a dying fire.
Invariably, at such moments of time in the mingling light and dark, the invisible, goggle-eyed stone curlew, anticipating the darkness for which its large eye was forged, lets forth its sharp, piping whistle, nervous giggle, if you will, and dreams of cloak and dagger hunts in utter darkness. It rises above the din all around, piercing the cool air like Nature was sounding taps … only here not signalling the end of day, and ensuring a safe night, but a beginning, for those like this goggle-eyed plover, whose life's activities begin during the hours that remain, largely, mysterious to mankind.
It thrills the marrow in me, that clarion, for I recognise a larger circle of life than my fellow walkers are aware of. It elevates my spirit at the ability of Nature to survive despite heavy odds.
I walk safe in the light-split, sound-split air, happy to bear witness to one world awakening, and another trundling towards end of day.
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