One night at Mik’s place while passing around the pipe, he weaved stories of sprits possessing the trails between the white horse and the many rock circles heading north. I could almost visualize these images he was painting and hear the pounding of drums in the wind, as I focused in on the flames dancing with the beat. (more…)
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Songs whispered, by dancing grain, beneath the haunted moon
resounding to the whirlwind’s sweep the plain, for fear, that daybreak comes too soon.
Deep midnight, by the moon’s chill glance, out of the dense fog wrapped about them
the children cease to sing and dance, stands in a circle unbroken
Along the edge of open sky and vast sweeps of land, I followed the wildflowers
I heard sweet memories dances in the distance, sheep wandering through Avebury
Meandering lines of standing stones, crisscrossing the stars and planets, I too followed their path
the body of a serpent passing through a circle, toppled, broke up and buried, we shall never know
