Forest Child

Wherever we find ourselves, wherever we go, the forest-child lives within. Is it better to aspire, to try to reach what may be always beyond our reach - or is it better to lay down in the quiet places, look up at the night sky and dream?

A net between

I want to chase the wake
and race the cut-water,
slap at the dead lights,
and drink at the scuppers
with the grey-finned children
of the tide.

Do they see the sky above
as I do the ocean?

Mirrors of each other -
reflections of an eternal frontier.

Wind and the iron horse

What is wind, but the rush of a million tiny worlds,
swirling past with a scream?
a rush,
an impossible buffeting insanity of layers.

Lean into the gale. Know what ancient seamen knew.
Guess at the wisdom of starmen.

I am becoming.

What is Heaven?

I know if I wait here long enough, I will learn the unknowable language of the wind, and the hawkes and eagles will show me all the secret places. And the world will breathe again...

The world is more than we know.

Soft grass, beautiful dreams, a welcoming - wouldn't we all live within the clover, if we could?