You’ll find me at moorwanders, following smalltrails and playing at touchstone for the only thing that is real. Here, elder ways draw to base: flame crosses chill, rain mists slick the stone, and the growl of winds between the ways. Here, the animals sing underhill, a call to slumber.
I know you tire at the mention of Raven, but they are here too.
The best magic is that which seems not to be magic at all, and it lingers here like it did in the old, doing a lot of nothing much at all: wind waves barley, skies trading slate for blue and then back again, small birds ducking in and out of the tall grass and the lone tree upon the hill. Them, big oak and me as all acorn, resting underneath and waiting.
For what? you ask.
Well, if you must need know… for you.
5 responses to “For you”
I adore this one, Michael. What a beautiful post to find at just the right time. It stills me in the best way. Thank you, friend.
Thank you very much Stacey. I’m glad you found it so. Here’s to hoping you find your balance sooner than later. My thoughts are with you. 💙
Thank you, Michael! : )
Could never get tired of ravens – beautiful birds!
I haven’t myself after some forty years or so, and I don’t expect that to change. But it’s been commented that I might be obsessive about ravens. 🐦⬛