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" A good traveller has no fixed plans,

and is not intent on arriving "

Lao Tzu

The Oak Boulder

June 17th, 2011

Following on from the last post, here is another wonderful poem by Claire Dewey about David Nash’s boulder of oak…

“Oak Boulder “ Last Seen 2003

( A Poetic Tribute to David Nash’s 25 Years Art Project 1978 – 2003 Filming the journey of an oak boulder from North Wales to the sea)

All grown and ready,

Roots driven into riven earth,

You are scoop and ball, hauled, hewn.

An oaken boulder blundering and

Bowling the waterways in a slow tumble.

You navigate the mumbling spout and sputter

With a nod and wink.

This is unexpected.

The turn and twirl tugs at your raw surfaces

A tidal trail, a wooden snail.

Sucked in silt and stuck ashore.

Time passes, winds freshen,

You rock and roll once more.

Savouring the salt flats

The tang and taste of gritty shallows.

Rivulets of rushing jade and silver sheen

Tip and tilt you like a loaded dice.

This season sees you bobbing at dawn

Cocky as a cork and wearing an emerald shawl.

You warm to the tune of the wet and the wild.

Riding the estuaries with a stately glide,

You pause to rest on a ridge of stippled sand –

Sniff out the missing contours of the land.

Drunken dances dunk you in the splatter and splash

Of deepening channels – toss you aside.

Watery arms, sinuous with long lush weed, invite, embrace.

Rest is sweet beneath the cool cavern of a bridge.

Cattle cross, splash, graze. The heat is stifling.

Months mellow and corrugate your face.

You are a galleon now sailing high atop the rolling surf.

A solitude of snow temporarily halts your travels.

A fine artery floods and swells in glassy tubular

Curls, cresting the world with ice .

What a pudding you make!

Thaw and melt water trickle, softly whisper of wild waves –

Promise a passage on the open seas.

Claire Dewey

One Response to “The Oak Boulder”

  1. Within the bumbling boulder,
    The serpent coiled, boldly
    In the maternal Maze, slumbering
    For a span of moons upon the surface
    Of the Abyss.
    When, upon a strange sandy shore, boulder
    Breaks and births the shiny serpent with fierce
    Claws and clattering scales, Welcome! cry the natives,
    Our very own Bardic Dragon!

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