In my tapestry of December days
many silver threads catch star-light
and gold skeins catches the soft-slipped
sunshine as it starts its winter slide.
Hope and tiredness elide in dreams
and nudge my inner eyes toward
renewal, following hibernation. I long
to see love in old friends’ eyes, even
as we tussle with our politics and ride
the waves of crazy stormings tides.
Stock still, on a rock, in our churning
river, a heron watches late-splashing salmon
and I learn: our Goddess lives amongst
us – even though I do not know her name.
Latest posts by Ceinwen E Cariad Haydon (see all)
- On the Rag: No Bins, No Incinerator  - 9th February 2023
- Saturnalia - 18th December 2022
- Hope That’s Okay? - 15th December 2021