A GAP IN THE WALL
I haven’t any memory of this occasion and, even if I experienced it, I am not too sure what I was trying to talk about by describing it but I like the memory it evokes even if it never happened! Maybe that makes it even better; the memory of what I might once have done….friends I might have had, walks I might have taken.
A GAP IN THE WALL
The word gap; it speaks of a vacancy and absence; a loss.
But this gap.
This gap; the gape of a broken down dry stane wall
The stones; scattered over the grass, covered in moss and lichen
Coarser grass grows in their spaces
Dried mud lies matt between them.
A cold wind whips past the entrance
Instead of making me miserable; my face glows behind my scarf.
Away on the skyline; the scraggy shapes of blackthorn trees.
There are crows making black crosses in the air,
Jostling each other as if in good-humoured argument.
Where the wall breaks, tufts of wool snag on the rough rock
I am tempted to say to my companions that we should collect it to make a sweater.
A little to the left a tangle of bramble climbs in brown straggly strings on the wall.
Soon it will flower, then the blackberries will come.
Look at the dried out remains of planks that once covered the gap. The
orange twine that once bound them together pokes out of the grass.
Now they are discarded; we are all free to come and go as we please.
We walk through the gap; stepping on the bigger stones
On the other side we sit down with our backs to the wall
Out of the wind; warm in our oilies, snug in our boots
We share coffee, we tell stories, we eat oatcakes and cheese
We make plans for the future.
A spider crawls over my boot
Here the crushed carcasses of snails; a thrush stands some distance away on the wall.
The thrush is beautiful, as are the snail shells.
Our hands grow cold, the coffee loses its heat.
We stand up again; exposed to the wind
Ready to continue our journey.
(Photo: A wall somewhere in Argyll, not the wall of my memory! 2020)
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