The feeling this piece imparts is decay mixed with beauty, using contemporary text from Hamer’s 2019 book, How to Catch a Mole: Wisdom from a Life Lived in Nature. Marc Hamer is an English gardener and poet who spent much of his adult life catching moles for a living in the Welsh countryside. The book draws on the strength of his waning years to explore the cycle of nature, solitude and contentment.
Two lines struck me and influenced the direction of the composition:
“The icy air condenses and drips from my moustache.” I knew this had to be for a men’s choir.
“Today's thick frost could hold a cat's paw.” The poem didn’t have a title, but I loved the tenderness of this line.
Performance note: Oboe could be substituted for violin.
Today’s Thick Frost
A dawn hillside
looking down into the valley
no pathways or desire lines
I'm walking the field edges
which trace the stream's meander
today's thick frost
could hold a cat's paw
trees and grey sheep still and mute
wait for warmth and light
with dripping leaves and fleeces
the icy air condenses and drips from my moustache
it tastes of snow and rotting leaves
cold air jellies on this old spade's splitting handle
and softens to slush as my hands lose heat
its worn grey T-bar matches
the callouses on my hand
without it I am useless
my body is working
my mind is idling
man-shaped, pig-like
I'm snuffling, bent
I'm leaving booted footprints
in the crystalline grass
and I want to swim
to hang motionless
alone in a loch
my back tattooed with clouds
with seagulls squeaky
wheeling overhead.