This is a poem inspired by the last three rewilding suggestions of Paul Brookes’ December challenge. You can see them on Paul’s blog here.
Sacred circles
Curled about her cubs,
every furred mother-sun
radiates love-warmth,
lake water gathers up in gentle hands,
broad wings, long necks, flecked and flocked
with bird-drift, gives them back to the sky,
worm tunnels clear through earth-mould,
the composted death of years past,
breathing air and life into the passage graves
of leaves, field maple, oak,
and the sifted bones and shells
of wild ossuaries.
All things curl, bow, bend,
the cycle re-cycled, reforming and recurring,
sun, moon, stars reflecting lifetimes.
Jane Dougherty Writes 
Reblogged this on The Wombwell Rainbow.
Reblogged this on Becoming is Superior to Being and commented:
Great last verse:
“All things curl, bow bend,
the cycle re-cycled, reforming and recurring,
sun, moon, stars reflecting lifetimes.”
Sometimes the best poetry states the obvious.
— kenne
Thank you! Sometimes it feels as though the obvious is so transparent hardly anyone sees it.