Hill Climb

(My photo – Cothelstone Hill)

In the wooded area on the path leading up to the hill, there are echoes of chainsaws and people’s voices. It grates as I pass them, my irritation showing in my quickening steps. The rational part of me knows that what they’re doing is important, but it doesn’t matter. I came for a quiet walk and now it’s been ruined. But as I move further away and higher up on the hill, everything lifts. How could it not with this view? The beauty of it, the vastness and space. I pass the small herd of Exmoor ponies clustered under the trees, shaking the flies off their heads and swishing their tails. They gaze at me with curiosity and I can only love them just as I love this place. It seems to burst out of me and any rancour I may have had at the noise is long gone. When I go back down the hill and encounter it again, I smile. It no longer matters.

The infinite sky
in each of us
a silent breath