Golden dawn . . .

Sunrise over Sparty Lea

Dawn is something that I rarely experienced in my youth, but as winter draws near it’s an increasingly frequent delight. This morning’s golden hues evoke a sense of optimism that is frankly at odds with the prevailing climate, economic and political situation here.

Often, when showing visitors around the place, I point over to the collection of cottages clustered around the Sparty Lea bend, just under the rising sun, and I mention the Sparty Lea Poetry Festival held there in 1967, which heralded the British Poetry Revival. of that era. I don’t think anyone really believes me when I describe these humble beginnings, but it doesn’t matter. Origins are something to conjure with; as many creative writing courses emphasise, first you have to begin. It doesn’t matter how small, or how inconsequential it seems, a beginning is a start.

Since today is also the first day of October, it feels like starting over again in the new month. What new challenges may arise to greet us? With the sun now full in my face, here in my little porch office, I feel ready to greet the new day.

Good morning!

3 responses to “Golden dawn . . .”

  1. I located Barry MacSweeney’s grave stone the other day it’s at St Peter’s

    Like

  2. Can you attach a photo here?

    Like

    1. If you can email me it I’ll put it up!

      Sent from my iPhone

      >

      Like

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