With the Flow!
Grey misting is the raincloud as it scrapes to meet the ground,
With an opening for an entry – with a hearing full of sound!
Rolling with the flow of morning – the damp begins to rise,
Step by step upon the road of reaching – under heavy hanging skies!
All is restful – caught in slumber – a voicing full of Crow,
The running ditch it drains the land – running with the flow!
With the greening carpet across the fields – the autumn crop at birth,
The Pheasants patrol as they strut their stuff – scouring at the earth!
The stream is streaming with the flow – as I join the final phase,
A pathway crossed by a pass of the Kestrel – fading with the greys!
With the making of my entrance – 3 Wood Pigeons scramble on the wing,
Departing the green – green grass of the gallery – where wingtips seem to sing!
With a scattering from within the Tree line – of Wood Pigeons and the Doves,
I follow my path to the arrival stones – where connection feels the love!
With an understanding I count my blessings – in honour with the flow,
I share my presence as I step within and I feel my spirit grow!
As I make my way to my favourite chair – the drifting mist it comes and goes,
The Crow Tree rings with a volley of shouts and calls – with a myriad of Crows!
Carrion and Jackdaw – Magpie – Rook and Raven – a collective with the flow,
Each new arrival welcomed to their gathering – with scouting parties to and fro!
The Robins and the hidden singers whistle – from the shelter of the Trees,
Now turning yellow with the autumn tide – with the falling of the leaves!
The early Willow behind the Moon Garden – now standing almost bare,
The later wears its crown to the left of Beltane – with its flowing locks of hair!
With the formation of the work detail – the Elders find their holes,
Planning for their planting on Samhain day – rehearsing at the roles!
The wheat bed is tidied with the flow – preparation for winter’s rest,
While the wood is gathered for the art of building – furnishing the nest!
The Mushrooms gathered in their multitude – for a week it was the same,
Wrapped around the base of the chopping block – leaving as quickly as they came!
Breakfast called for the keen as mustard – plans were made within the mist,
A plan of action formed with the flow – as it continued to persist!
Construction began on the Samhain Gate – taking shape and form,
A familiar design of the yearly cycle – keeping to the norm!
With the flow of the rain a heavy shower – washing out our view,
The completion of a framework for decoration – an honouring of Yew!
Moving on – behind the Butterfly Garden – the broken Hawthorn upon the ledge,
Drastic surgery for the long term future – of the trees that line the hedge!
The lantern jars are filled with oil – as its time to take our leave,
The cloud creeps over the rolling hills – with the flow a random weave!