Month: March 2019

Bright Grace

In the darkness of a November night, the autumn moon rose proud and bright, and so did you,  my magical child, in a landscape green and wild. You were my ēlē every morning, the grace of light, of each day dawning, the most beautiful in Celtic lore, Gráinne, beloved, a mythical flower. Kim M. Russell, […]

Smudged

The day has not yet ended, we’re not ready for our beds, and the moon’s already rising while the sun’s on the horizon, smudging trees and meadows into charcoal shadows – a momentary impasse, a blur of branches, leaves and grass until the stars come out to play and night ink-washes day away. Kim M. […]

Pigeon Steps

Throughout history, women have taken pigeon steps, played ‘What’s the time?’ with Mr Wolf, as if our feet were bound, crinolines rigid and tightly laced, ankles hidden – we knew our place. Now we have shredded ribbons, learnt to march and ride our bikes burnt bras and held on to property, paving the way to […]

Humming into the Wind

Through sullen branches of ancestry, a deadened wind soughs a song of loss. Straggling souls skim the trees in skeins towards an ancient rookery to caw themselves to sleep. They echo through insomnolent dreams, but silvered by moonlit poetry I hum against the windy wings, through a mouthful of mouldering leaves, and the succubi of […]