Being shown the path
As mirrored reflections,
Crossing lines
Taking my own way.
Finding byways through
Unconscious patterns
Weaving lines
Being warp & weft.
Evening
Coloured by the calling of owls,
Light
Withdrawing into the sky,
Summer
At the cusp of transformation.
So we slip
To the point of change
As if we too the gathering cool air
Flowing through
The darkening bracken.
Beneath the earth
Swallowed whole by the Mother.
Here resting in quiet
Simply observing death of light .
Then with dawn
Comes renewal of form.
