Strength to our ancestors
In every way may seem unreasonable
The withering of latter day warriors
Complete in the window of activity
Which makes our understanding easier
Elements of era change our perception
Of great people as each may tune into
Different concepts
Similar doorways have lessened
The framing of powerful men,
In essence great lives are never discovered
Until latter days
When similar notions are reflected
In what we remember.
Never will we truly understand
But can only imagine how these souls
Suffered and lived within their time
Joyous and stressful, delirious or tortured
Great lives will have travelled them all.

Moorland skies and breaking dawn clouds,
forcing the weak sunlight through the barren trees.
Crows with no particular places dart from one copse to the other.
Flying above your head, tearing the morning skies into shreds.
Elusive mists on the undulating lanscapes give peeks of field stubble or dark  grass.
Nearer, the feel of the five bar gate
Is damp and slimy with the dew,
The rough wood barely discernable
Until the warmth of your hand gives up enough heat to release its underlying texture.
To the right the west seems still asleep,
Unaware of the fingers of the sun's rays inching closer.
Sliding through gateways,
Over ponds and into unexpected windows.
To the east its almost day,
Cool yellow light weaving it's way through or past the trees,
Hedges, odd building and rests at your feet.
Bowed in reverence as if to hand you this day on a platter saying, '
'This day is my gift to you, enjoy.'

Feeling for someone is a burden
A burden that becomes you
It delivers a soulful journey whilst
Both are having connected visions

My desired heart has been fulfilled
No longer is it left along with the washing
It accompanies me as does my love, with
The certainty of tomorrow

Claiming my happiness seems unnecessary
like the sunrise it lives inside us
It becomes our energy
Our natural 'go to' emotion

The journey is green and gold
With silver amulets and chains of memories
slung around our shoulders
Like badges of office

The time of year has connotations
with the longevity of our love
Memories of breathing out visual steam
Or camping in the cool morning air

The emotion is as strong
It lives as we do with tempered faith
Deeper knowledge
And faith in ourselves to keep it right

Clever minds that stretch
The many elements which live as our backdrop
Too often everyday is spoiled
By unnecessary people, gathering ammunition
For climbing invisible platforms of command
These are cast aside by simple smiles and welcomes
And it was.
Even if the task was invisible to me at first
My soul felt at home amongst these new work mates
My responsible position was underwritten
Given gravitas and a freedom to which I wasn't quite used

The time was charged with familiar but different
It was fraught but strangely healthier in paradox
The honest fight was taken with gestures of family proportion
Success had waned but the unity of 'knowing' was the strength
That continued to support that Company
In spite of the turmoil my personal facets were given air
To run and to adjust, to temper and to manage
Poor communication was completely disastrous
The confusion of three currencies
And the balance of understanding left us guessing
Never mind agreement or translation

Through all this, looking back my heart is lifted
Not by the freedom or the ability to achieve ...mostly,
It is the strength from our leader,
That calm, silver haired man
When many were distraught you kept us going
And fed us with hope and built our confidence,
Not always with the obvious
But gave us the ability to win through by believing ,
Believing in us and building back our motivation and teasing out
The raw infrastructure of our true capabilities
Never before has anyone, apart from my Mother
Believed in me as you did. To tackle the toughest of tasks
Anything that the industry, the public or our customers
Could throw at us, we dealt with it.
Sadly you could do nothing at the final demise but take the role
Of a father giving news of an aged relative sadly moved by
A force greater than yourself
I know had you the influence, the power and the funding............

You were always more than a boss Chris
Your transparent enthusiasm raised our spirits
And in times of worry I hope we lifted yours too.
I think of you often, thank you for being a friend
After we were no longer professionally connected.
I see your generous smile and your warm handshake
I can hear your laugh now
It's always a treat to catch up over a beer.
I now find you in my phone, in my photographs
But mostly in my heart for being a great bloke
You taught me so much.

Speak soon, with love, Max

Solstice midsummer is famous for revelry around the stones
The sacred stones on Salisbury plain
Laid as monuments by our ancestral people
The henge of countless moons and previous seasonal
wheel turns stands steadfast
Silently they hold the history we crave to unravel
The years of news, turmoil and worship
The rising and setting of our life-giving sun
The bitter cold winters, likewise winter solstice
Where few find solace holding their offerings
Or enjoying the feeble warmth from a far away star

The nature of Stonehenge carries the enigma
Which makes it special, mysterious and commands
Respect, awe and love
I believe like it's close neighbour Avebury
The Henge will remain enigmatic
A giant in the soil of the flat plains
Certain to give us the love it once received from Druidic
Peoples laying down their hopes and their wishes
Spending time absorbing, making and mending
Rekindling the connections around themselves
With the earth, through this massive conduit
The sacred stones everywhere hold their story
Close to their chest, the mirrored knowledge
That embraced the folk that built the magickal elements
Will be there for ever
Claiming the fascination of the masses but the respect
Of few that understand the real Stonehenge

Special is a word I was unaquainted with
It is not usually in my vocabulary
I used different words
Until I met my love

She must be the epitome of that word
The perfect match
In fact the only word that describes her
Not really, but it suits how she is to me

Fairy shoes on polished floors
Green light glowing in the waxy surface
Making glorious rings of transmitted light
Rainbows breaking up as the windows agree to let in

The dancing cherries of summer days.
Curling shadows cast from pretty arms
Made round as sleep endured
After busy day body resides in the comfortable reception

Sinking as weight increases as you let go
Relaxing muscles, duvet covers hold fast the shape of rest?
Yes rest is altered as time moves on.
No more feast of food or discussion  just peaceful slumber

Special she is as special she does
Counting simple things that endear me
Or humming a familiar tune
Checking the weather or slipping her hand in mine

She doesn't need to be extraordinary to be special
No flags or drum rolls
No letters of distinction or accolades of merit
She is special by just being mine.

Can this be the time once more
Of utter giving up of our control
The simple folliwing of commercial madness
Our desire for the day when food and wine
Have to be gathered about us like the defences of yore
Headlong we run from mid-summer until
We are exhausted in body, spirit or credit
The desperate worry of what to buy whom
Or when to order the especially fattened bird for your table
The ridiculous overspending on presents
When time could be the finest present you could give

Yule tide is a special period for Druids and all pagans alike,
The wonder of simplicity of reflection of our past year
The elements of sleep as mother earth regenerates herself
Resting often under the warmth of a blanket of snow
Gathering of families and loved ones
Blessings of the solstice as the wheel of the year turns
Once more into the light as the sun begins it's journey
Returning to the northern hemisphere
Our birds and native animals preparing for the winter
Storing their food, digging deep as they look for vitals

Likewise the land is resting,
The soil teems with dormant life, every insect and worm
Every root, form and bulb
Slowing right down as the degrees fall to freezing
The frosty and rime ridden mornings giving the flora
A lift of white dusting and sparkling light reflecting
The weak, beautiful winter sun
Heaves itself onto the low glancing position
Just making it to the tree tops before retiring once more to sleep
Leaving glorious swathes of orange and red
Painting the sky as it falls and rises.

Yule tide comes as all seasons, times and periods
But once a year in our short lives
The earthy sounds, the images and emotion
The smell of the newly fallen snow and woodsmoke
The foraging birds and squirrels
The warbling and tuneful song of the blackbird
And the tut tut of Mr Robin resplendent in his
Bright red waistcoat bobbing around in the crisp frost
Our lifetime of Yules is a wonder to enjoy,
I know as I look from my window where my heart is
As the distant tree bare in it's winter shroud speaks
To me as a friend and anchor within this beautiful planet.