At the end of the field
two trees stood - wrinkled hands
praying, or holding the sun.
No sound. Even the winds were
those silent winds that lie
still in piles of leaves
then quietly move on like ghostly children;
their hair flows like wisps of smoke
streaming from a silenced candle.

I stopped breathing
and stumbled.
I saw the gateway under the hands of Earth.
There were night birds in the air,
floating like oil on water
- their chests glistened.
When they moved their wings I saw
their bodies tear in half and grow
and blot the sky black with feathers.

Now the mist lifts and the moors fall away.
Then they come to lay my bones in a sacred place.
The sky is dark and infinite –
I feel the rocks around me crumble
as another land glisters through the arch.
The quiet air falls quieter still…
and I walk
to where the sun falls
between those trees.