Patterning I-We I go for a wander, and wade in your fen, Smell: rich, reek time. Who are I-we now? Who were I-we then? I siT aTop a ciTy’s seaT and waTch. Westerlies move with deep time grace over land marked by our hand and changing at pace. I love this place and hold it …
Whoooosh The sky is threaded through with a fine layer of spider web clouds all pointing in the same direction whoooosh in the distance cows moo I stoop to pick up a magpie feather Magpie friends Crow friends Bird friends I am warm in front cold behind breath collecting in my throat released in an …
Walker Between the Worlds: Negotiating Belonging Read More »
The Mountain The Lord says: you are the mountain. No need to climb mountains. Be the mountain. Steady and strong. Your strength is your selfness. Refuge for the weary; a stronghold for the tired; pastures for sheep and goats; streams passing on their way to lower ground – home to the rivers and seas. Do …
The mountain welcomes shore and peak; makes room for tree and brush; shelters cave and cranny; bare and desolate; abundant and fertile. Clouds above and sun. All are welcome. Rain on me and make my plains green. Shine on me and make my flowers grow. Stand, just stand. Nowhere to go. Nothing to do. What …
As I wander into the comfort of slumber, I step through the mist, and as I pad the earth my paws are a blaze of orange fur. I tread silently on my path. I am Fox. The edge walker, the adventurer of the liminal space. The timeless place. The betwixt and between. The place where …
In unwavering lines of flight Egrets Point their arrows home Below In moist ground Earthworms writhe And hum their soilsongs The wolf leaves the path To talk horse to the herd That can’t be bothered to listen In the fork of the tree Lies the body of the crow Where I left her two years …
The spirits said to me, “Wayfarer what keeps your heart beating?” I walked the way and said, “I’m turning the earth with my footsteps I’m turning the earth with my beat For without a beat there’s no turning No primal rhythm to meet. No clock. No wayfaring through the tide of green each spring. No …
