For the familiar singing of flighted friends
For the caress of etheric invisible which blows during the equinox
For the soft sustenance, the stem cells beneath my feet
The rugged giants of compassion swaying gently with me
The cool blood of life dripping down and from the stones
The ancient faces of rocks, they are the bones
Standing silently on the edge
We are never alone
Circles and spirals
They are the cycles
Ebb and flow
To and fro
I am grateful.
