Lament and Revelation

The woman mused, where could she go
when next flee a sea that shines and
hills hung on the horizon,

A sudden change of flux clung, spurred
took her from trodden tracks to places unknown
to unknot what knew,

Where Romans made marks, clear still from carts
knew too where a deer might break, a hare hurry, where
snowdrops flowed, cowslips clumped, orchids surprised
when they arrived, where bluebells under beeches were best
where spring-lines spilled, boots squelched in muddy mire
knew favoured areas of sky where skylarks and birds of prey fly – and more – – –

Rambling on tracks and hidden history,
familiar places were stealthily planted
seeds rooted through years of long stares,

The familiar lost, when a ‘good idea’ drives
what hopes harried that drove a desire without design
to entrench thoughts, to the want to wander off,
stray away from sights that sing,

Not follow wisdom’s warning, deviate to seek satisfaction
feed a need to range on different grass, not as green,
claim that destiny must be delivered,

If random rides dread descends when, a ‘good idea’ drives
because it mattered that the squirrels squabbled
hassled in the hazels where the best nuts grew,

Drowned dreams now the mourn must be borne,
loss of faces of friends, little churches snug, peaceful
that delight when come into sight,
longings left – echos of regret,

The flux and flow that follows makes us thus
horizons need not beckon
when broken threads into flotsum flow,
Hinders to run, yet another race
no finishing post – where the prize?
as cast about the line confound
when easy to stray – pain of disarray,

A familiar old coat is a comfort, like quiet places for reflection,
where thoughts are floating seeds, not clogged by wants
unhampered peace perceived when aware that
busy pulls, offers aims that weigh,

Movements in the mind, dust in the wind
neither mired by merit or evil if seen without intent
reliance on the world crumbling – ties of acquisition
dispassion a realization surpassing ordinary knowing,

Between two stools fall, grasp neither,
hold lightly – no glue in the grip,
gone beyond boundaries – wishes loosed
no ball in play no goals to win,

The woman mused – where is she?
neither moving forward nor backward
no trace here or over there,
nothing to gain – no gains to get,

No handholds in the sky, acceptance encompassing
squirrels, trodden tracks and byways,
in the unknown and the known,

The woman on a different- round of wanderings
knows all the beloved places without regret
realized absence with compassion
The peace of letting go.

Skydrift Moon