Tag Archives: Green

Mulberry Glen

Silent rapture of autumn
mingle mulberry mummers unmoved
across ocean of cian moors
to deep to cross without drowning

Thus we are left on wind and glen
suffering only a hope
To whisper it lasting

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The Coat

Brighid’s hem

clings to ancient stone

on ancient roads traversed

in modern life;

the matte green of younger days

brightly calls slumber possible,

while scent of earth

lingers like mother’s hands

comforting today to yesterday

and now to Summerland.