Rosebay Willow Herb, Foxgloves, Blackberry blossom, Pale Flax, Meadowsweet, Thistles, Daisies......We've been talking about re-wilding. It's a word we picked up recently. There are a few of us. Walking, observing, feeling air on our faces. Summer. Winter. Morning. Evening. Today . . .
These dreamy days. The scent of meadowsweet. Foxgloves swaying in the summer breeze. Everything a tangle of lush green. I am following a whim to return to this special space. This small window on the larger world. Peace is always only temporary. But that's where things are at for now. . . .
I hear myself saying- I don't know what I'm doing. And there's a freedom in that. I say it, often in the most inappropriate places, only to discover that I'm talking to myself. This phrase soothes me, puts me back on the ground, drags up my . . .
There’s a Girl Inside There is a girl inside. She is randy as a wolf. She will not walk away and leave these bones to an old woman. She is a green tree in a forest of kindling. She is a green girl in a used poet. She has waited . . .
She began to bellow just before 3.30 AM. There's a hill of blazing gorse to the east and she had gotten herself up on the top of that hill to give birth. My son came running downstairs, "Is she dying?" Quite the opposite, it was another new life. The awful sound of . . .