Phrase by 'Alice Oswald'

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It's a relief to hear the rain. It's the sound of billions of drops, all equal, all equally committed to falling, like a sudden outbreak of democracy. Water, when it hits the ground, instantly becomes a puddle or rivulet or flood.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
Democracy , Water , Rain , Flood

One night, I lay awake for hours, just terrified. When the dawn finally came up - the comfortable blue sky, the familiar world returning - I could think of no other way to express my relief than through poetry. I made a decision there and then that it was what I wanted to do. Every time I pulled a wishbone, it was what I asked for.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
Time , Sky , Night , Blue

A living tree is a changing, sleeve shape, a wet, thin, bright green creature that survives in the thin layer between heartwood and bark. It stands waiting for light, which it catches in the close-woven sieves of its leaves.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
Waiting , Tree , Green , Light

If you bend a branch until it's horizontal, the sap will slow to a stopping point: a comma or colon, made of leaves grown into one another and over one another and hardened. Out of this pause comes a flower, which unfolds itself in spirals, as if the leaf form, unable to keep to its line, had begun to pivot.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
You , Flower , Slow , Leaf

The sea has this contradictory quality, that the more you see of it, the more it overwhelms the eye and disappears in its own brightness. Like a flame, whose meaning is light but whose centre is dark, it demands to be undefined.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
You , Light , Sea , Quality

Spring, when the earth tilts closer to the sun, runs a strict timetable of flowers.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
Earth , Spring , Flowers , Sun

When the wind blows through a wood, its mass is cut and closed by every leaf, forming a train of jittery vortices in the air.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
Wind , Train , Leaf , Wood

Topsoil is a place of digestion. It sucks and chews things into smaller pieces. When it's hungry, it turns grey and stony; when it's thirsty, it opens thousands of cracked lips. Subsoil is more skeletal: it doesn't digest.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
Place , Lips , Grey , Hungry

If you put a real leaf and a silk leaf side by side, you'll see something of the difference between Homer's poetry and anyone else's. There seem to be real leaves still alive in the 'Iliad,' real animals, real people, real light attending everything.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
You , People , Poetry , Light

Webs are made mostly of spaces. They break easily. They barely exist. They belong to the category of half-things: mist, smoke, shrouds, ghosts, membranes, retinas or rags; and they quickly fill up with un-things: old legs and wings and heads and hollow abdomens and body bags of wasps.

Author: Alice Oswald - British Poet
Body , Smoke , Wings , Ghosts