Paradise Enough
On the slow train from Glasgow to Stranraer outside the window of the dining car visions again. This pale sun has no trouble releasing in fleeces of sheep a holy white and tinting pink beneath them the furry stubble. The sky is an arched cathedral of light. The pale brown, leafless trees are glowing and group elegantly, and a farmer with a thinker's stoop stepping the crest of this hill field has slanted his furrows in perfect symmetrical subtle curves, taking his time to do what was clearly wanted. Is my half smile what all of this deserves?
Now they are putting aureoles on cattle, setting them near the skyline with winter sun behind. A world of hymn subjects to one brought up on hymns and a painting by Samuel Palmer engraved on his mind. We are as cattle. From earth we come, fiercely, to earth return, calmer.
No mean feat. Carriages rattle and bump us along the calm Clyde's Firth.
James Simmons
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