Into the Meadow,I bear a branch from the She Oak as an offering,
I bear a picture of the black soldier ant’s path, up the tallest gum tree,
I bear a lake now half filled with the water of fresh rains
Upon a bed of baked clay where below the frogs sing.
The dawn dawns with fire that rises in the east, bringing with it a cool breeze that is scooping up the falling leaves that dance, and twist allowing themselves to gently fall upon a different spot and it reminds me of the the ever changing cycles of life. Beyond the wide, gurgling river rushes forth, and I in my boat not ..championing to be Mole, who sets forth upon a journey ho.
Colour within the Wetland
The wetlands are crying for rain and as I walked upon its bed , through the dust I discovered pink flowers blooming – how amazing is Gaia
The river sang in rhymes of effortless movement of peaked crème waves
Spilling out upon each other and rising in delight as they rushed to the shore
Silver fish, darted unseen in waters murky and deep
The moon shrouded by endless cloud movement shone golden in a haze
And kookaburras, Kings of the bushy sea, flew in singing in unison to such splendour.
whilst lily and I gazed, strangers to this realm, treading upon sacred soil,
for change was upon us as Samhain draws near – heralding the New Year.
On the night of the recent Full Moon, with Lily by my side I walked down to the flowing
river to view the Moon and saw her throw golden pearls upon the river’s face, creating a
pathway for her as a stairway from Heaven,
She stepped forth wearing dainty shoes and hovered upon the surface
but alas, I could not reach her as I stretched out a welcoming hand but she slipped away
from me like melting cheese,
I did try to climb an invisible ladder and for three brief seconds, I hovered
Neither between land and sea, a tiny wave in a sea of consciousness
Just me, the land and the river