Craft

Those fine fingers
that crafted, carved, loved & blew
my soul into being

Could not open
this heart enough to feel, breathe, be
& rest still or silent

but softly plant
that which would stir, grow, rise & breed
with what was there freshflowing

heartfilling loam
all manner tawn of burnt-brown rouge
rich soil for seeding roses

by dawn’s pale green
burst indigo blushed tanger
streaked the sky a God

stretching a pink
tongued muscle straining sore &wide
as infinite as fertile

beginners’ hearts
blooming deep red & tumbling wild
raising chaotic profusion

First published: Blue Green Tapestry, British Druid Order, 2001