Crystalline dew clings
Edging green blades
A forest of tiny shards
Elevating the ordinary with distant brilliance
Shields of blackthorn and willow
Hold the damp, earth-warmed silent roots
Of near neighbours
And impossible distances.
We are deep time vessels
Melting down cultures
Perceiving aeons but
stumbling forward.
My hope is fused with the shortness of human breath
The leaping of salmon
The cry of the owl at dusk
The infinite variety of cloud
The buried seeds that
complete these endless rhythms,
and push metaphors into the mind.
Visited by sheer beauty
My heart turns,
turns and opens inwards again
Upon the silken self.