A hesitant light
Mist lies low on the moor
And the ghost of lost love
Is abroad,
and keening soft sadness
Through the cracks in the walls
My lovely Lapwing
Who yesterday shone
like an angel
Sits quietly now
at prayer,
I wonder
Will her dreams come true?
When a lapwing dreams
She dreams of her dancing
Over the wild woods
And into the blue
With her love in flow
Down to the wild woods
I’ll go
To gather soft herbs
And I’ll fashion for her
A pillow of deepest sleep
And she’ll know.
#poetry