Happy Accidents
by Andrew McCallum
for bridget kursheed
we stood talking about buzzards, owls, curlews
I saw an old tree stump peppered with holes
a home for insects
to me – a sculpture
blue sky, sun whispering through the trees
walking along, pausing to pick a raspberry
talking of pies made of berries, of jam
dodging a lingering wasp
pointing to where deer had chewed the underbrush
the blackberries were ripening
you handed me one to eat
a bit sour still
but soon they would be sweeter
everything in its own time
your children’s laughter, smiles – healing
we talked about fish, bird-calls and hazelnuts
two old friends still at ease as we age
I looked up at the tall pines, listened to the rowans stir
commented on the lowland bog, ferns, cranberries
spongy ground you say – life’s like that
walking on you pointed out violets and pansies
that just grow – like life – in happy accidents
we stood talking about buzzards, owls, curlews
I saw an old tree stump peppered with holes
a home for insects
to me – a sculpture
blue sky, sun whispering through the trees
walking along, pausing to pick a raspberry
talking of pies made of berries, of jam
dodging a lingering wasp
pointing to where deer had chewed the underbrush
the blackberries were ripening
you handed me one to eat
a bit sour still
but soon they would be sweeter
everything in its own time
your children’s laughter, smiles – healing
we talked about fish, bird-calls and hazelnuts
two old friends still at ease as we age
I looked up at the tall pines, listened to the rowans stir
commented on the lowland bog, ferns, cranberries
spongy ground you say – life’s like that
walking on you pointed out violets and pansies
that just grow – like life – in happy accidents
Photography by Mairi Innes.
©' The Treacle Well 2013