Standing Stones

Standing stones

 

Shhhhh………listen,

said the sea.

Can you hear the ghosts of war on the tide,

carried back and forth

from other times, other centuries.

Rocks,

soaked in sorrow,

like tomb-stones littered on the shingle.

Who will save our souls,

cry the ghosts.

Listening

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Will you listen with me,

to the gusting breeze

dashing over hawthorn bushes.

To sea-smacks on the rocks below the cliff.

To the hum of engines trawling the mist

 like a lost soul.

Bird

 

birdleaf for gill

While sitting in the gazebo in Gill’s garden,

I saw a little bird  in the tree.

But on closer inspection, it was simply a leaf.

All is not what it appears to be,

but one way or another,

real or imagined,

Gill was here,

through me.

 

 

 

 

 

Dream

In my dream,

dolphins were playing with happy abandonment in a friendly sea.

I watched, enthralled.

Clapped my hands in delight and gratitude for their presence,

for their joy at just being.

My applause stopped their play and in mid-air, half in and half out of the water,

as still as statues, they looked at me.

Locked in their searching gaze,

I was aware of myself,

aware that we saw each other,

in that place of knowing that lies just below the surface of everyday.

Seeing the one in all.