The wonder of now

By Nicholas Hooper
Now, as the light slowly lifts and the blackbird stops its insistent song, a silence descends, broken only by the occasional squabble of jackdaws. The damp green of the grass is a soft carpet outside my window but no bird bobs, hunting for worms in the soft soil. The big birds are here, the collared dove repeating its soft, soft call looking for a mate. In the grey blue of this dawn sky the dark shapes of birds fly out of vision and the jackdaws and collared doves stand like sentinels on the rooves and chimneys watching for what? Then gone in a moment leaving the silence of nettles and daffodils to sing their no-song:

green, green the lush grass grows
singing a song that nobody knows
making a sound so slow and so quiet
our ears cannot hear as they grow to the sky
the grey blue sky, the grey blue sky
they tell us to slow down so we can hear
the wonder of now as it reaches our ear



About Dawnings:
“Every morning at around 5am I get up and go down to my studio. After a short meditation I write down whatever is in my head, giving myself fifteen minutes to do so. Then moving over to the piano (or a more portable instrument like my Ukulele when I'm away), I improvise and record a piece of music inspired by whatever words I just wrote. It is a great way of keeping both my writing and my composing going and I call these small creations Dawnings. They are mostly unedited, like sketches, so that they keep that fresh feeling of an early morning discovery.”

— Nick Hooper