The Hills
The Circle of Life
The Circle of Life
staring at the hills
surrounding me with
cloaks of rolling green
I wonder
what more I could
see
beyond the natural
horizon of my daily life
knowing
that there is more
to creation
than soil and sky
than green and blue
and I feel
that mystic heartbeat
of Love and Life
which makes the unseen
seen
and the unfelt
felt
it's that never-ending heartbeat
that invites me
to come over the hills
and wander into freedom
being me
one with the hills
The Circle of Life
The Circle of Life
The Circle of Life
the chill of early
mornings
creeping like a
silver blanket
over green hills
and through hidden valleys
foretelling
stories of an ending
that is nonetheless
a new beginning
like the circle
of Life
where today is new
and tomorrow
never comes
it is the ever quieting
stillness
of a seasonal day
which is filled
with old
contemplation
and new
expectation
grieving for what
has been
hoping
for what has not yet come
Colour
The River
The River
the language of the soul
whispering words
of freedom and
understanding
not bound to any
propriety
but painting a palette
of fragile
creative minds
telling stories
that surpass time and place
being real
to those
that understand
in the deepest of their
accepting hearts
connecting worlds
of wonder and imagination
to form
a secret garden
which will
forever
communicate the colourful
outburst
of wonder
that is called
everlasting love
The River
The River
The River
your run is wild
and powerful
meandering
through green grassy fields
and rolling
hills
forming your way
with a strength
dangerous
and difficult to
withstand
looking lovely
and refreshing
inviting me
to join
never showing
the treacherous
and hidden understream
ready to take
whoever
is foolish enough to try
still
despite that
wildness of your being
you
quiet
my soul
Love
Summer
Summer
words
of affirmation
flowing
like a silver cloud
in front of
the moon
drifting like a cotton
sail into my soul
soothing
and comforting
part of
being me
and you
Summer
Summer
Summer
the breath
of the golden
sun
in my hair
like a damp ray
of warm heather
smells
and lilac
flowers
blooming in the ancient
garden border
like voices
from the old
forgotten highways
running through a field
of cool
waving grass
playing
in the wind