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Does poetry help you relax? Super relaxed walk by the lovely Hawick Burn

Running water, Fiona Malkin, @ringnetter, @ShemaronWistaria

I really enjoy being beside water, any water it helps me relax. Not only the sea but rivers, streams and lakes. The sound of moving water can serve to soothe, invigorate or scare depending on its volume. In my last post High Tide at Howick I looked back comparing my visit this year to a similar visit to Howick in 2012.  In this post I refer to the lovely frosty day I visited Howick in 2012. On that day I had a lovely relaxed walk by the burn that put me just in the right mood to write a little poetry!

 

Does Poetry Help You Relax?

During the winter months when my husband and I are not involved with Shemaron quite so much we spend a lot of time travelling around Northumberland and the Borders. At this time of year the countryside is quiet and slow to change. This is a welcome contrast to the manic state we often find ourselves in when we are tied to the house for long periods. Sometimes the places where we stop are remote. Every now and then it is as though nature truly sings out, and every now and again I feel as though I manage to catch a little bit of the song.

 

Howick Burn

The day arrived before us shining midwinter bright,

Frosty veils hanging in the grass and reeds.

      All around the sheltered sway the burn brushed softly on its way,

Carrying in each melodic strain and on each gurgled note,

A slow, dawning, and intimate response,

That flowed beneath its icy coat.

An answering song, an inevitable surge, rolling in secret seduction to the sea.

Memories of summer; frosted amber, held in fibres that

Twisted through the stronger autumn calling,

Lay crisply in beech upon the ground.

Winter spread its frigid fronds along the stems and veins

Of leaves, suspended in one last brittle show;

Intricately balanced, held fast in its careful vice.

On the bay glass sparked hidden in the sand,

Seaweed piled stiffly under persistent clinging hoar,

Sun glowed orange on the North Sea strand.

In the path of winter light, the lovely little burn

At last fulfilled, recognised its destiny

And shared its music with the sea.

                                                                                                   Fiona Malkin

 

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