Tag Archives: summer

Elder Mother

From mother to mother, this is the bargain:

Old Woman, Old Woman,

            Give me your wood

And when I am dead

                        I will give you mine.

                                    Steep black berries in whiskey,

                                    kindle elderfire, stay warm all winter.

            Indoors, a stick tucked in your kist,

            keeps your clothes sweet and the devil away.

If you cut it, friend to witches, it will bleed –

ask before you steal berry, bloom or branch:

Old Woman, Old Woman,

            Give me your wood

And when I am dead

                        I will give you mine.

                        The healingest tree that on earth do grow,

                                    the whole plant hath a narcotic smell. 

            It is not well to sleep under its shade –

you may never wake up again.

                                                Playground for fairies – one, the faun

                        Phynodderree, will bring good luck, 

                                    lend a hand in the garden, protect 

your house against lightning.  

Spin it thrice, this is the bargain:

Old Woman, Old Woman,

            Give me your wood

And when I am dead

                        I will give you mine.

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The Edge of Summer

photo

The Edge of Summer

Housed in the heart

of the sycamore

we’re recycling its green

*

loosening ties

to the ground below

*

a power tool

not a woodpecker

drills unseen

*

axis and rotation

halfway to full

*

all that buried life

bramble and dock

swelling spores

*

but how to write good verses

without a pot of oolong?

*

in the still air

flycatchers

dance their frenetic jizz

*

through the canopy

greying clouds and a chill

*

when this ash grows

past that sycamore

would you speak of win and lose?

*

fistfuls of Burnlaw berries

that never reach the bowl

*

our perimeter

protected with flames

and burnt sandalwood

*

oh to be a jaguar

slumbering in these boughs!

*

bark as skin

and like all skin

its own fragrance

*

on a cooler evening

easier to dream of woodsmoke

*

worry – a temptress

worry – a truthteller

impossible to say in the dark

*

caught in the lake

the bounce of borrowed light

*

to grow roots

or go and reinvent yourself –

the weight of choice

*

the spread of heather – August

woven purple into the hills

*

while there’s still light

we move inside

for warmth

*

the edge of summer

in reddening rowan.

 

Treehouse Renga

at Burnlaw,

22nd August 2015.

 

photo 2 

 Participants:

Ajahn Abhinando

John Bower

Holly Clay

Linda France

Geoff Jackson

Linda Kent

Anne Marron

Tim Rubidge

photo 3

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