1: retreat
A sharp winter's eye, ardent, clear:
see, the stream's face is shining.
Leaf-time is over; no nests in the trees –
the old gate clangs behind me.
2: seed
Fingering an acorn – just this, just this.
Northern sun, gloom-soaked sky;
ancient ground.
These hands feel soft;
need grit and soil beneath their nails.
3: home
Eastern light wipes the murk,
vaguely.
A cool homecoming:
storm-trail, folk-bond, hearth.
Faces flicker in the dim-lit hall.
4: our place
We sat on the floor, knee to knee.
Tea went around our circle.
A candle; dawn; a few words.
Emptying slowly cups of silence.
5: dawn
Crows crack the dawn. The resound –
like memory’s drum-skin spilling
its rough notes.
Heart-rhythm edgy,
wavering in the slow beats of light.
6: path
Lamp at the end of my walking path.
Stop, turn and walk again.
Feet pace the darkness, onwards, inwards ...
An owl’s hoot tears the track.
7: teacher
Speak to me with earth-touching hands:
I've scratched around too long.
Oak leaves shine with gusting rain;
thoughts patter. Tracing ground.
8: view
The last days shiver: everything
dropping. Bone-stark greys
cool my eyes.
Here, before me,
bright cloud flags the unseen sun.
9:ground
Bare trees receive my departure,
letting go. The last leaves drop,
curl on the ground like miser's fists.
Earthed, I feel old gold break open.