When you have nothing more to say, just drive
For a day all round the peninsula.
The sky is tall as over a runway,
The land without marks, so you will not arrive
But pass through, though always skirting landfall.
At dusk, horizons drink down sea and hill,
The ploughed field swallows the whitewashed gable
And you’re in the dark again. Now recall
The glazed foreshore and silhouetted log,
That rock where breakers shredded into rags,
The leggy birds stilted on their own legs,
Islands riding themselves out into the fog,
And drive back home, still with nothing to say
Except that now you will uncode all landscapes
By this: things founded clean on their own shapes,
Water and ground in their extremity.
No finer words could sit along these photos, I am thankful you brought them to my awareness and to be honest, deeply moved by the words. They reached in and are now quietly moving through me to like a silvery infinite touch lingering in all the still spaces in between I know so well and feel at home.
A thank you seems to small…
Hanne T. Fisker Photography Art 
Beautiful images.
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Those are stunning shots!
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Thank you!
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Beautiful shots Hanne, such silky looking light
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Thanks a mill, they came out surprisingly well 🙂
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So so gorgeous!
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Many thanks Katalina!
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Such tranquillity. Soothes the furrowed brow just to look at these images, Hanne.
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Tish, what a great comment, made me smile, I’m sure that’s good for the furrowed brows too 🙂
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Wow! Stunning photos!
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🙂
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When you have nothing more to say, just drive
For a day all round the peninsula.
The sky is tall as over a runway,
The land without marks, so you will not arrive
But pass through, though always skirting landfall.
At dusk, horizons drink down sea and hill,
The ploughed field swallows the whitewashed gable
And you’re in the dark again. Now recall
The glazed foreshore and silhouetted log,
That rock where breakers shredded into rags,
The leggy birds stilted on their own legs,
Islands riding themselves out into the fog,
And drive back home, still with nothing to say
Except that now you will uncode all landscapes
By this: things founded clean on their own shapes,
Water and ground in their extremity.
– ‘The peninsula’ by Seamus Heaney
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No finer words could sit along these photos, I am thankful you brought them to my awareness and to be honest, deeply moved by the words. They reached in and are now quietly moving through me to like a silvery infinite touch lingering in all the still spaces in between I know so well and feel at home.
A thank you seems to small…
LikeLike