Wednesday, April 17, 2013


by Caroline Caddy

It’s something they carry with them
                     – explorers night shifts seamen –
like a good pair of binoculars
or a camera case
               perfectly and deeply compartmented.
It has a quiet patina
that both absorbs and reflects
                  like a valuable instrument
                                    you have to sign for
– contract with alone –
                 and at the end of the voyage
                                                  you get to keep.
Sometimes it’s very far away.
Sometimes so close
              at first you think the person next to you
is picking up putting down
                         a personal cup
                           a book in another language
before you realise what
– when talk has moved off
                           leaning its arms
                                  on someone else’s table –
is being
handed to you.


  1. Oh-Oh-Oh. That's exactly the poem I would want for this wee bench in your field, Sister.

  2. Oooo - what a lovely "sanctuary" :) - a space to commune with Nature; the aliveness within all Nature - to deeply listen to the whisper of Life within - and remember... You might also like a short writing by Adyashanti called "The Immensity of Solitude" at Here's a tidbit: "In that solitude all ideas and images are left behind, and we can intuitively orient ourselves towards the unborn and uncreated ground of being. In that ground we find our true being... All that we will ever be is found in our solitude (within ourselves) and is timelessly present in its fullness and completeness, now and eternally."

  3. Beautiful words with a wonderful picture. I assume you still have night frost and the days become warmer??


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