In the vales and glades
the grass grows wildly
fluidly,
and maturely.
An angel asserts
her presence
and offers her hands,
in guidance.
‘I see a flower’ she says
‘a golden flower’
with teardrops for dew.
Mist comes in on the treetop
sand the moon calls ‘blue’.
Choose a direction and ask for a blessing each day.
Comments