I was in awe and entranced
watching the dance,
of two lovers in flight
Slow and involved
I died there below,
envying the romance of the Red Kite

After the storm I always fall back down to you

Skeleton leaves losing height

Weightless birds lost in flight

Resurrected feelings drifting back down to you

How I miss that sycamore now. It’s gnarled and twisted yet perfectly elegant branches, crowding around me, holding me in my solitude.

Unconditional love that roots deep into the ancient soil of this place of moss and myths, surrounded me and pushed through layers of old leaves to get to me.

In that place, with those that live from earth, I feel welcomed home. Whenever I return there it feels permanent, a settled soul that had found its space in this, the damp side of the valley