A bird, flies through

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs 

A bird, flies through

Fly through. God flying, fly with the birds, flying. The light captures the light of the clouds as the wind dies down. They drift, drifting with the clouds, the wind flies through as with god. God flying. Clouds, angels and the wind. The wind flying and whistling by. The wind is the light, the light of god, blowing, the wind, the heavens with the clouds, in the sky, blow.

Light in the clouds and the sky, daytime. The light reflects in the clouds. Light, feathers and birds. The wind of birds flying by, they make a sound of the spirit, the spirit in the wind. Birds flying.

Birds flyings in the clouds. To fly through the clouds like a bird would be similar to the experience of the light in the clouds, needed or the spirit descending unto you. The relationship god needs you to have with the clouds is their light. Clouds drifting with the light, drift like the birds gliding on pockets of wind. Rose windows and churches could describe the light and the spirits ascension, Christ's relationship with heaven, through no greater reflection. Birds flying through the light are like the spirit of Christ and flight, our short journey on earth. Clouds drifting are blown away with the wind. A bird, flies through.

 

God and the wind, fly

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

God and the wind, fly

Wind oh windy, trees, the leaves shine and face upwards, oh windy, windy, tree. Thrashing in a gale, trees blow around and knock against the house. The doors blow open and then slam shut and you feel glad to be inside. Abandoned on the lonely, windy, island, birds call their home, trees and forests tend too flourish. Vines and creepers crawling over abandoned buildings, taking all back to nature, the trees are oblivious and keep blowing in the wind. Trees, trees and the birds, nature, trees being left for the birds and wind as though people did not ever exist for them. Birds tell you so.

Walking in the forest, the birds, flitter through and you catch glimpses of their wings in the light. The odd feather drops to the forest floor. Ancient is the forest and you are made to wonder what existed before nature, trees and animals, the wind rushes through.

Flying, flying with the birds, your wings catch the light, are you a bird? God and the wind, fly.

 

Trees and the wind

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

Trees and the wind

Light, sunshine and the trees,

blow around in the wind.

Blowing a gale, they blow,

trees, creaking, in the wind.

The sunshine of trees, the noise of trees in the wind, and walking in forests takes you to the birds. The birds, chirp and humour the ghosts. Historic trees like their companions and the sunshine, could tell more of the light. The sunshine has shone down for centuries on trees and the companions of trees, the forest with all its inhabitants. Trees tower and continue upwards into the light while sunshine filters down to the ground.

We travel forward and trees branch out. Past the tree branches is the sky and flying off skyward with the birds in our mind, we fly. Trees grow branches, leaves, sometimes flowers and the petals fall. Falling with the blossom and petals scattering, the ground, we think of times when bare limbed trees blew around in winter breezes and windy gales. Blowing around in the wind, blossom, scatters onto the ground. The leaves grow. Fruit and the apples, appear while birds seem jubilant and fly through. The seasons come winter or autumn, spring to summer bring light into the garden and a forest of trees. Trees and the wind.

 

Are we forest in the trees?

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

Are we forest in the trees?

Trees grow. They grow into the house and the church could tell you so. Branches, branch out, grow, grow through, growing, fly with the birds, extended with the blossom. The blossom falling to the ground, scatters and trees and new shoots, travel along. Eventually overgrown trees need tending and tending need to grow. Forests occur as the result of trees.

Forests of trees. Trees, once were forest with the birds. Light filters through. Trees. Trees with snaky thoughts of sunning in sunspots, hibernating in rainforests.

Snakes, snake around your mind slithering off from their sunny spots come Spring, back into the forest. The light of summer. Your hair goes into Rastafarian, snaky, dreadlocks like a Medusa. Tread carefully through the forest and loudly. Lizards scurry and the birds chirp, flying away. The trees wake up from their winter sleep and move around in the wind. Light and sun, peers, through and as though sprites of the night have passed by seem to rattle and moan, groaning of another night, in the daylight. Medusa would not know such a snaky address but ghosts travel through as though knowing another history or place. Are we forest in the trees?

 

When you say: "tree"

Nicole Page-Smith, photographs

When you say: "tree"

Trees are green and have leaves. Leaves are the green. We are light and as green plants breathe out their oxygen we breathe in. Breathing in and out. Green is our colour in the forest, we are green, the green, the grass. Grassy and green we are the forest. The forest green but are also the trees. Trees, green and a greener world. The world of trees we know as our own tree. We grow, we grow tree, tree oh grow oh grow, grow trees. Limbs expand.

Limbs grow and trees of the forest are in joy for growing and expanding upwards. I am tree when I am forest and tree. Blossoming trees nominate Spring and you feel them reaching in exuberance towards god. Birds fly through enjoying the blossoms and flowers and all the new green shoots. Spring and its exuberance when all of the creatures crawl out of the forest. Squirrels come out of their nest and the foxes growl. All the long, abandoned, bird's nests are reused. And the whole world sings in jubilation of the Lord: "Spring has come". Spring has come in the name of the Lord. Our limbs grow outward and we stretch and unfold like trees extending. Trees provide our very breath and oxygen for thinking. We think better thoughts surrounded by trees with trees thinking along with us. Trees thinking their thoughts.

Thickets, forest and undergrowth, all continue to tangle and grow in a way upwards and outwards to find the light, competing for sunlight. Trees think with tree companions with the animals for a communication with god and one another. You feel the trees thinking in anticipation of leaves and shoots. The undergrowth and thickets tend to sort each other out with big trees standing in the forest.

Stars have trees. In the forest you are forest when you say: "tree".