Conjuring

We are on definite, clear ground. A concrete world, solid.

But around us are golden wisps swirling,
timeless truths, woven stories.

Children are knitted to it,
their worlds tumble naturally from the unseen,
crying out,
diving into the depths, intense grapplings.

We can reach out and grab these golden threads,
breathe and fly within them, shining.
We can conjure, flourishing. 

The End Eternal

Leaves drop golden and brown and grow again, green emerging.

You are gone, have lived,
a life full, pregnant,
as if it would never end.

Young children,
important work,
busy days, creative burstings,
that rushed tumbling,
passed to the end.

You are gone.
Leaves fall to mulch,
but there is something eternal.
Is it love? Bonds stretching,
wrapping around us,
everlasting.

Taller

Time rushes forward, an unstoppable train, smoke dissolving.

You tower above me now,
carving, moulding your singular way.

Before, you grasped my finger,
gazed, taking in all,
legs crossed in your pram,
eating the apple whole.

Old Friends

We have gone down separate paths, plunged different seas, brightness and dark, tangled depths.

There was a time we were knitted,
glowing, woven threads.
In each other’s lives flying,
memories shining.

There’s an expanse,
a chasm now,
but the threads are still real,
constant, shining.