The bones of time sleep
under the mountains,
breathing in misty dreams.
Old promises are underpinned
by illusions of reality,
an eclipsed moment pausing
in lyrical abstraction.
A rugged mountain in tones
of tawny brown meditates
on plein air. An outcrop of silvery
quartz reclining on the mossed
slopes of Slieau Managh, bearing
witness to grey healing powers
etched on slate in lightning runes.
The rustic blend of russet, cedar
and sand stone keeps secrets
in hidden heather that cloaks
caches of songs buried in cairns,
shamrock melodies in unheard
Gaelic and invading Nordic.
Shades of fern, pine and laurel
melt into some distant aqua matte.
Jagged adumbrations poise
on fauve strokes, pastoral palette
and concrete fancy; some alternate
dimension that captures ensconced
shadows. Moving colour out
to the spirit’s edge, a visible rhythm
silhouettes in tonal causation.
A contralto plays somewhere,
anchored on chirragh wings.
The bones wake up in white rock.
Creg Bedn, translated as “White Rock” from Manx Gaelic, is a huge quartz outcrop on the slopes of Slieau Managh (“Monk’s Mountain”), just north of the Snaefell mountain on the Isle of Man and is said to have healing powers.
Chirragh – Manx Gaelic for falcon