A bird came down the walk:
He did not know I saw;
He bit an angle-worm in halves
And ate the fellow, raw.
And then he drank a dew
From a convenient grass,
And then hopped sidewise to the wall
To let a beetle pass.
He glances with rapid eyes
That hurried all around -
They looked like frightened beads, I thought.
Hi stirred his velvet head
Like one in danger; cautious,
I offered him a crumb,
And he unrolled his feathers
And rowed him softer home
Than oars divide the ocean,
Too silver for a seam,
Or butterflies, off bank of noon,
Leap, plashes, as they swim.
(Emily Dickinson)
Lindisfarne, The Holy Island. For me that means hours of reflection. Walking around or sitting down. The island is "a thin place" as the holy forefathers and foremothers have known for centuries. You feel close to the Creator. You feel close to yourself. You feel close to the Creation.
And nature come very close to you.
Wild or cultivated. Creation is part of the Creator's holy plan.
