Kestrel's Nest

The Third Year - Summer
Beltaine - Lammas 2005

I spent a while translating pieces of old Welsh verse but never finished anything. I despaired my Muse had vanished forever. However, the coming of Midsummer heralded her return...

Midsummer Darkness
Brief Visitor

 

Midsummer Darkness

Inspired by a friend who was concerned that, at the height of Midsummer, she yearned for the dark:

In the forest a soft darkness lies:
deep, profound, eternal.
Down in the leaf-fall, womb-dark,
warm, soft, blood-nourishing.
In that sensual darkness, spirit guided,
lie all the mysteries,
all the wonders of existence.
It is a pregnant darkness,
in shadow, shadowless...

© Angela Grant (Kestrel) 17/6/2005

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Brief Visitor

Just before Midsummer I visited the wood in North Wales, that I had been to twice before, for a Wildwood Weekend and stayed on alone after it ended with the trees and the spirits for two more nights. I wrote 'Brief Visitor' beside my tent in the birchwoods...

I had a visitor this morning,
unexpected, in dawn’s light
to my birchwood campsite
high above the valley.
He flew in low between the young trees,
past the stately rowan.
A long, slow, gliding flight,
totally at his ease.
A young buzzard, magnificent,
so sure of himself
and his rightful place in the forest
he failed to notice me
sitting open-mouthed beside my tent,
pale brown amongst the pale brown leaves.
He rested briefly at the canopy’s edge,
viewing his domain – and then spied me.
A brief moment of recognition,
one being, one spirit, to another
and he was gone,
out into the mist-laden air
above the valley – leaving me.
My spirit breathed in the trace of his being,
Crowning the beginning of the day…  

© Angela Grant (Kestrel) 22/6/2005