all the trees of the field have clapped their hands

"For ye shall go out with joy,
and be led forth with peace:
the mountains and the hills shall break
forth before you into singing,
and all the trees of the field shall clap their hands"
Isaiah 55:12 (KJV)



"... if I am alive this time next year
will I have arrived in time to share?
and mine is about as good this far
and I'm still applied to what you are
and I am joining all my thoughts to you
and I'm preparing every part for you

and I heard from the trees a great parade
and I heard from the hills a band was made
and will I be invited to the sound?
and will I be a part of what you've made?
and I am throwing all my thoughts away
and I'm destroying every bet I've made
and I am joining all my thoughts to you
and I'm preparing every part for you ..."


all the trees of the field will clap their hands
by sufjan stevens



and I have seen the trees shiver and clap their hands
and from the shudder
down came the leaves

Llyn Hesgin by Clyde Holmes

I recently discovered the passing of the landscape painter Clyde Holmes. I found the portrayal of his life and work in the 1997 series 'Visions of Snowdonia' very poignant and inspiring. I first saw, through the documentary, how a life of art and poetry can be made whole. How, through our lives art, poetry and any 'creative expression' can become a vocation. Clyde's vocation was the upland landscape of Snowdonia, in particular Llyn Hesgyn near Bala. This was an intermediate place - neither pastoral lowland, nor sublime and dramatic mountains. Nor was the vocation of the artist a romantic one (personally, I became aware that allowing myself to open up to the 'poetic' side of my life and personality was difficult and painful, and could leave me emotionally exhausted, in need of just lying down.) The smoothed contours of words and brush strokes were moulded like this through the slow and persistent attrition of the elements. And his peopleless paintings, for me, are populated with so much humanity, because these places were seen and known and experienced and then shared through the eye of an artist - Clyde Holmes. Rest in peace.

Autumn

The trees are open
cages - now the leaves escape
through bars they reveal

haiku by Clyde Holmes

previous autumn-esque offerings:

http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2007/10/trying-to-answer-times-of-no-reply.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/11/autumn-pause-for-thought.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/10/and-then-heart-replies.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/10/time-of-no-reply.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2005/10/field-of-autumn.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2004/10/slants-on-autumn.html
http://underthegreenhill.blogspot.com/2006/09/fruit-tree.html