Me and my mate, Owain, made a film last weekend. I shot up a little Douglas Fir close to a fence line in a wood I am thinning. There were other trees about and I didn't want to get the tree hung up and we have no machinery on site, so I fired up there and bat the top out. Went well and we had a nice steak sandwich at the Crown in Pantygelli afterwards.
The poem is about the recent solar eclipse. Me and the boys I work with were felling a big Sugar Maple in Llangwm. I loved the way the light came on eerie and dusk. We were lucky with the weather.
Eclipse in Llangwm Hollow
Mimic of dusk trying to tip the horizon,
sheathing moon instils belittling cosmos
cooling the prim hope of our celandine morning;
purple invading blue with black that wraps the stars.
Science has no hypothesis to gauge surprise,
affinities rocket their weight through thinning skies.
Egg-full birds berate the purposeful confusion;
profound security of no constants,
the poignant close-to-cruel of every sly turning.
How near we are when we plummet into how far.
Matthew Plumb - Tree Surgeon Poet from Tree Top Films on Vimeo.
