A suggestion that something was concealed there. An impression left like the form of a hare
A suggestion that something was concealed there.
An impression left like the form of a hare.
In the damp grass of a drowsy Summer's day.
Disturbed by approach from where it had lay.
Everything grew there with a twist of element.
Survivors of ice, wind and rain sediment.
Convex curves of Crannogs.
Cascaded shadows down.
Into the dark lake.
Upon it's surface held light like silver plate.
Not yet known, unaware
we stood in the presence of place.
Instincts of, it really was-
Not somewhere to stay.
At sunset a tension of gold,
did seem to melt away
That became elusive, residual,
of who we were memories.
Crept around and over,
wrapped into windswept trees.
We moving fluid within golden lit life.
Quickening and fleeting.
Between shadows of what had gone before.
It was as if the elemental spirits were speaking.
Laid out on the earthen floor.
Rising, skimming over the water to curiously sift.
Us out, hearing, touching us through mist.
With cold silvern fingertips.
We who were camped out in strange territory.
Upon Crannog's domed sanctuary of
floating heaped green discs.
Lulled, drifted into shrouds of translucent dreams.
Into which suddenly slipped-
That something came out of the water and ripped.
An unrealized poet's being wide open.
Stitching and slicing in words to bring them
back from broken.
Out of their depth beneath where foundling poets were taken.
Emerged amidst cascading shadows and spirals of raven.
In an Under lake World that held red, green and black depth.
Beautiful and eerily inspiring except-
The ravens consumed everything until nothing was left