The Bright Field The wail of ambulance sirens fades as I turn my back on the town and climb toward Scout Scar escarpment. Amidst the rain and December gloom there comes a day of wondrous light and I stand poised on the threshold of another world. Here is treasure trove, something of inestimable worth, and now to make it mine .
Walking south, toward Morecambe Bay, I am dazzled by the sun and find myself surrounded by Welsh Black cattle. The docile creature I almost stumble into does not raise her head but continues grazing. The dog Bailey drops a stick at my feet and invites me to play. Bailey and the Welsh Blacks
are untroubled by news of a pre-Christmas surge in Coronavirus and the peace of the morning comes upon me.
are untroubled by news of a pre-Christmas surge in Coronavirus and the peace of the morning comes upon me.
I love the warmth and depth of colour of winter woods, the amethyst of birch amidst the canopy. Dark yew trees cling to the escarpment buttress. As the morning advances the Howgills show in sunlit clarity and I love the feathery delicacy of winter trees caught in sunlight against a foil of the fells in deep shadow. I watch the sun break through to illuminate a distant field, a highlight in the darkness. And I give all that I am to this moment. Here is treasure, here is contentment.
I can't remember when first I read R S Thomas The Bright Field but the poem has never had more resonance
The Bright Field.
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
R S Thomas
I can't remember when first I read R S Thomas The Bright Field but the poem has never had more resonance
The Bright Field.
I have seen the sun break through
to illuminate a small field
for a while, and gone my way
and forgotten it. But that was the
pearl of great price, the one field that had
treasure in it. I realise now
that I must give all that I have
to possess it. Life is not hurrying
on to a receding future, nor hankering after
an imagined past. It is the turning
aside like Moses to the miracle
of the lit bush, to a brightness
that seemed as transitory as your youth
once, but is the eternity that awaits you.
R S Thomas
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