Dawn. There’s no sunrise, no birdsong.
Light seeps over the water, through the branches. The sky is lying on the loch, filling the trees, heavy in the spaces between the pine needles, settling between blades of grass and mottling the pebbles on the beach. Although there’s no distance between cloud and land, nowhere for rain to fall, it is raining; the sounds of water on leaves and bark, on roofs and stones, windows and cars, become as constant as the sounds of blood and air in your own body.
You would notice soon enough, if it stopped.
— Sarah Moss, “the sounds of blood and air” in Summerwater: A Novel (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, January 12, 2021)
Photo: DK @ Daybreak. 4:56 am, July 19, 2021. 70° F. Cove Island Park, Stamford, CT.
I was up at that hour trying to go back to sleep. Wish I had that view to lull me to sleep. Nice one.
you would notice in an instant if it stopped
Punch line!
Lyric….
It is….
I can see and feel all of that. Thank you. Good morning.
So good. That’s exactly what I felt….
Reblogged this on It Is What It Is and commented:
Read more … beauty light!! … “You would notice soon enough, if it stopped.” – Sarah Moss, “the sounds of blood and air” in Summerwater: A Novel (Farrar, Straus and Giroux, January 12, 2021).
Love the stillness reflecting in the photo… The last line suggests the end of the bodily processes, or, death. Have a friend in ICU again, a nature lover (and hobbyist photographer), so sending love and appreciation her way…
So sorry to hear that Valerie. Hope she gets well.