The village gathered around
to see the light on the hill.
Saturated in whiskey and humour,
three brave souls staggered towards the light.
Some looked horrified, others confused, and
one took a nap.
The first to arrive cried, “It’s bloody Steve with a torch up his arse!”
The black heart of summer moves in the sun,
the light soul of winter moves in the snow;
white hands of lily move in the rain,
dark feet of onyx move in the mist.
Black and white,
light and dark;
all the same
under the sky.
in and out
of the trees
to the beat
of the forest
your beautiful fluidity
flowing through us
from your love
brings my heart to life
I see a world far away
or somewhere near.
If I could describe
what I see, it would
describe what I
think of you: beauty.
You, with your neat sunlit soul;
You, with sad snow within your soul reflecting light and love.
From the window, I think of you.