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This morning the alarm woke me before sunrise -- and I actually got up! Maybe I was energised by a trip to a group of sacred springs yesterday. The moon is just a few days past full, and was silver, high in the sky. I went to my grove of trees. I took with me some sage, incense, homemade bread, water I collected from a spring yesterday, a candle, and a copy of this poem - which I wrote a few days ago. As I crossed the pasture, the horses came to say hello.
I felt happy. Summer is not my favourite season and I'm looking forward to the cooler weather ahead. In my mind, the moon, still visible as I walked, although it was now light, represented the coming longer nights, while the sun, not yet quite up, represented the summer we are leaving behind. The pastures, and the wider landscape are a mixture of green and gold. We have been in drought for several years, but it broke in July and has rained quite a bit. July and August are the most common months for rain here, which means that autumn often sees a growth of green grasses and forbs among the already mature and dried-off stands of grass. Maybe that was in my mind as I wrote the poem below. I was really longing for the broad leaf forests of Britain when I wrote it.
My little grove of cottonwood trees are very dear to me. They are huge and gnarled, and there is a lateral irrigation ditch running beside them. My boundary fence, the grove and the ditch are all oriented east-west, with the trees between the ditch and the fence. They actually straddle the property line between my neighbour's land and mine. It makes the space feel all the more liminal...
I felt happy. Summer is not my favourite season and I'm looking forward to the cooler weather ahead. In my mind, the moon, still visible as I walked, although it was now light, represented the coming longer nights, while the sun, not yet quite up, represented the summer we are leaving behind. The pastures, and the wider landscape are a mixture of green and gold. We have been in drought for several years, but it broke in July and has rained quite a bit. July and August are the most common months for rain here, which means that autumn often sees a growth of green grasses and forbs among the already mature and dried-off stands of grass. Maybe that was in my mind as I wrote the poem below. I was really longing for the broad leaf forests of Britain when I wrote it.
My little grove of cottonwood trees are very dear to me. They are huge and gnarled, and there is a lateral irrigation ditch running beside them. My boundary fence, the grove and the ditch are all oriented east-west, with the trees between the ditch and the fence. They actually straddle the property line between my neighbour's land and mine. It makes the space feel all the more liminal...
Green and Gold
Lead me
Into the forest Into the half light Oh, how the trees Hint at the past Hint at the coming winter Your light Light of the forest Half light of the year Light through the trees Leaves on the soil Ancestor-shared Green Man Spirit of change Ever alive Deer Woman Scout the path Show the way Stag Father Force of creation Giving in love Half light Balance of seasons Calm and still Out of the forest Winds blow Over the grasses Green and gold Turning to autumn Calling me home - Kris Hughes September 2013 
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Looking west to my grove just after sunrise, with the moon hovering above.
Looking east, the sun rises behind this squat old willow.
A view from the grove.
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You can read more of my poetry in my latest collection.
Land Songs
A collection of eleven poems each touching on the spirit of the land. Enjoyable and challenging by turns. Love letters, eulogies, rants . . .
8.5" x 5.5"
17 pages
See product page for more information.
8.5" x 5.5"
17 pages
See product page for more information.
$
8.00
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