but few are chosen in the symmetry and ritual, the circle of life and death, from the first gasp at birth to the very last breath. Fresh grass grows on mountains through snow and stones; saplings take root in graves among crumbling bones; new life and innocence bring hope and vision. Many are called but […]
Tag: Sunday Strange
Out of Body
A living quilt of stars and meadows lies across my bed; my spirit rises from my body pale as the dead. I am water rushing in the river, ever towards the sea; I flow through culverts and canals but you won’t see me. I am clouds and I am stars dotted in the sky; in […]
writing in north norfolk 