Old elements lay down, new elements go tumble, fire and earth, air and water. The essence of Aristotle, periodic-ally claimed by charts mere daughter. Water the artist, broad brushes scythe, to etch and carve, cleft and crack. The clock of great consequence, inexorably draws earth wilting - a water scarred stack. Tricky though this watery menace, relentless and some-times rare. Eroding aeons garner fortunes lost, washed lowland bound for forest, and farmer’s fare. The last bugle strains brinks hues to burst, gold and brown, grey and white. Fleet flowering post moody stare, the final breath of brilliance before dark engulfs light. Intense and serene, clouds caress the mountain, within it lost hidden - calm and sound. Pity though descending unwary, in flying machines oft claimed by granite clouds hard clothed around. Patterns spar and distance deceives creating calm so far, reclines base bedrock a frame for lively joy, necessarily competing, compelling, cajoling and jar. Michael Hewson 2018
lightly emplaced 