HARVEST MOON HAIKU
wild and broken light
defies the surrounding dark –
I thank the full moon
Contemplative Inquiry
This blog is about contemplative inquiry
Tag: Nature mysticism
August 5, 2026
BEFORE AND AFTER RAIN
It is 6.21 am. I am starting out on my early morning walk. I have entered the docks area. I am looking up and back towards the east. The clouds are suggesting rain. My fantasy is that it will be soft and gentle. Unprotected by rainwear, I will enjoy being rained on after weeks of drought.
In the event, yes and no. The early drizzle was fine, as I continued – staunchly or stubbornly – to walk away from home. But the cloud burst, when it came, was fierce and intense. I was thoroughly soaked. My clothes were soaked too. In a more private setting I would have been better off without them, other than footwear. I had to revise my plans.
Reminded once again that nature has its own agency, far more powerful than yours and mine, I made my way home and dried off. In the last stages of the walk I was earthboound and navigating through patterns of water, some flowing and some still, on the ground. Being, now, a bit wobbly on my feet, this took focus and concentration.
After food and drink in the shelter of my home, I was better able to savour the blessing of this downpour. I now look fondly on the whole experience.
July 11, 2026
PROSE POETRY 2026
I have recently been investigating and tuning into prose poetry, getting to know the genre. Now I’m thinking about my own work.
As a start, I have reworked a poem I published in September 2024 (https://contemplativeinquiry.blog/2024/09/17/). I have found that the text asked for substantial alteration. It wasn’t just a matter of changing the arrangement of space. Despite the cousinship between the two, this is a different piece, written in a different way, at a different time.
“Looking out from limitation, I see a wide world, expectant.
“The beginning of sunset, a liminal moment in the wheel of the day. Facing east, I feel the sun behind me, still warm though on the brink of descent. Facing east, I see pale blue sky, pink clouds, wooded hills. I am held, fleetingly, by residues of sunlight on a majestic hornbeam whose leaves have begun to turn.
“Early evening, early autumn: a whole world in only seeming suspension between one state and another. The wheel continues to turn. Yet to hold a moment, in the moment, with clear awareness and softened heart makes that moment eternal.
“Looking out from limitation, I see a wide world, expectant.”
July 9, 2026
NAVIGATING ANOTHER HEAT WAVE
I walked today in my local park between 6 and 7am. These early morning walks have become my new normal this summer. After a 5am rise, the sun was climbing ever higher in the sky. I found my world delightfully sunny and cool, moving from 17C/62.6F to 18C/64.4F over the course of an hour. Now, at 11.23 am, it is 29C/84.2F. It will soon be 30C/86F and we will spend 9 hours at this temperature or above. The peak is expected to be 34C/93.2F, at 3pm.
Where I live, in Gloucester, England, the heatwave threshold is 27C/80.6F on three consecutive days. We are now in our third heatwave since the last week of May. This is traditionally abnormal in our historically cool temperate zone, with most of July and the whole of August still to come. Yet people continue to deny that a human made climate crisis is responsible. The fossil fuel lobby is still influential, it’s denial and misdirection still amplified in powerful media and political circles.
I am personally able to adapt to this level of change quite easily. Early rising, early walks, jobs in the morning, afternoon napping, a return to activity in the evening, careful management of a non air-conditioned flat. Being old is a risk factor but freedom to manage my time is a resiliency factor. What worries me is the continuing (perhaps acceleration) of this process. 40.3C/104.54F was recorded on a day in 2022 in a somewhat warmer part of the country. Where is this going?
In the here and now, I see the beauty of the risen sun an hour from dawn. The play of light on a willow tree touched me with delight.
I was also touched by patterns of sun and shade on the park, on a tree trunk and a pathway out of the park. I found these patterns oddly inspiring. I don’t want to let big picture anxieties rob me of the moment. The anxieties are entirely valid, an authentic part of my experience. But the power and beauty of the world in front of my eyes, in an ordinary city park, are there too. A resource to draw on.
May 31, 2026
WAXING
In the dance of waxing and waning, I am enjoying this waxing moment in the wheel of the year. The moon, a blue May moon, has been moving towards full – reaching it today. We are within three weeks of the summer solstice.
For me the energy has been palpable, even on the days when I was personally fatigued by high temperatures. Plants offered images of this energy, by bursting into full colour – lavender above, poppies and daisies below: power along with beauty.
On one of the long hot evenings, I took a picture some of the birches planted outside our building. They are getting stronger and, in this season more verdant. Five together are beginning to feel like a miniature grove. Features like these help to make urban Druidry easier. On the same evening I also photographed the waxing gibbous moon. It seemed apt, and resonant with the energy I was experiencing from the sun and on the earth around me.
May 3, 2026
MAY MORNING 2026
Recollecting a lush 1st May as it was in the late morning. Green and white abundance crowding a knotty tree trunk. Exuberance and fecundity close to the earth. The energy of willow reaching down.
Throughout the day I was reminded that this day was also a full moon – a flower moon. Hoping to take a picture in the evening, I was frustrated by cloud. Yet the power of the unseen moon felt present, all the same.
February 25, 2026
SPRING BEGINS
Change is coming as the days lengthen and temperatures begin to rise. I too have begun to feel spring-like – more energised and available to the world.
Stepping out, I am in harmony with the life and growth around me. I become aware, again, of the resilience and potential of the plant kingdom.
I celebrate the life force within and without, both through movement as I walk and in stillness when I pause.
I learn again that a familiar space can be ordinary and extraordinary at the same time.
I open myself to spring 2026, the new season, as the Wheel continues to turn.
February 10, 2026
STIRRINGS IN THE PLANT KINGDOM
4pm, 9 February, Gloucester Park. I notice the ground in front of my feet. New life is emerging, pushing through last year’s fallen leaves. Crocuses – yellow, white, mauve – are making themselves known. Recent rain gives the blades of new green grass a fresh vitality. Feeling curious and energised, I enjoy an extended moment of contemplation on this small patch of land.
Then, looking around me, I find a contrast between the ground – active, emergent, blooming – and the trees, with their skeletal branches and latent potential. The exceptions are the willows, already moving towards spring.
I reflect on my different states of attention. If I walk briskly through the park, the flowers in particular are easy to miss. They are small and not immediately arresting. To appreciate them, I have to decide to stop and look, emptying my mind of other concerns. Then I can become truly present to the world in front of me, a living world that wants to survive and thrive. Contemplating these flowers, I feel a strong sense of kinship and belonging. The same world is their home and mine: I feel grateful for being born into it. May the abundance of our world be protected and preserved in the days and years ahead.
January 26, 2026
TWILIGHT AT TW0 PM
old wall, old tree – both in shade
clouds constrain the sun
and there’s stillness in the land
January 6, 2026
TOUCHED BY FROST
Yesterday, 5 January, I walked in Hillfield Gardens, Gloucester, in the early afternoon. Overall it was bright and sunny, despite being cold. But in shady spaces there were residues of frost.
I noticed how they changed the look and feel of these spaces for me. They became quietly exotic, as if differently blessed than the green grass in the sunlit areas. A light dusting was enough to make a difference. The three pictures below show the effects of the frost’s magic dust on a small tree, an old puddle on the path and fallen leaves on grass. All very ordinary. But the touch of frost had made them special to me in that moment. They held my attention, and enriched my day. It was an instance of re-enchantment.
