As I leave my home behind

To walk the far farm fields

The spirit of the land enfolds me

Its silence becomes my mantle

While I alone hear

Those wafted word

As the wind caresses the treetops

Whispering englynion

To lure me on

Through woodland and moor

Beyond fences, ever deeper into a land

Clothed in swirls of radiant mist

Rising from plashy pools and tarns

Amongst the meadowsweet and broom

Bedewed, a lone oak tree flowers

On a misty island in the sea of haze

And I sit and rest against its trunk

Facing my ancient past

And that lone slate rising through the mist.

I remember:

We lie beneath an oak

So often in the summer sun

Dappled by its leaves

Hearing the insect hum

Watching the bough-bound birds

As they watch over us

Our hands touch

Our dreams merge

In that smell of sedge and moss.

Our walks and love

Have filled too short a summer.

I remember!

So, here, she fills my mind

The moor retains her spirit yet

But haze-hidden from the light -

I think I hear her call in the oaken rustle

In the insect whisper in the broom

But it cannot be

I may think to see her face

But I cannot conjure more

There is no murmur in the mist

Although I feel her closer here

Than in night’s still, dark hours.

I may see her again tonight

A gliding ghost in the dusk

Rushing to me on silent wing

Soft breath of remembrance

Our souls merging once more