flow magic

You can’t really hold on

here at the marsh, not to the rigid

lines and paradigms:

what’s yours, what’s mine.

The sorceress marsh works her primeval

spells, conjures ever evolving

landscapes, blurring contours, blending shapes

sea, land, air draped in her

glittering and capacious

cape spinning mists at dusk, at dawn 

spawning flow

with herds of deer, fox and prehistoric birds

gangly, graceful, eternally

patient to snatch their catch

then vanish 

swiftly as they appear.

Between tides and time….the rise and fall

never-ending and sublime

thrall of mystery



This entry was posted in Inspiration, Nature, poetry, possibility and expansiveness and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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