Welcome

And the forest welcomed me again;
bearing no grudges at my absence,
harbouring no expectations at my presence.

Space was simply made for me.
The air parted for me,
the fragrances infused me,
the mattress of grass held me,
the deep dark soil undergirded me.

It is good to be home.

(c) AMcN

Foghorns

Embalmed by silent shrouds of fog
l stand in a stupor of dreaming,
watching the thin misty light
seep into the shadows of evening.

The trees are wraiths around me,
hovering in and out of dreams;
only the drip of cloud-liquor
distilled from their branches belies their true being.

Space and distance are drunkenly dysfunctional;
invisible blackbirds scold invisible rivals.
Their calls dissolve in darkness and
randomly rematerialise
with fog-softened edges.

I sweep the torch around.
In the beam a billion droplets dance;
each silver sphere defying gravity,
flocking on the whims of air
like thoughts drifting in a cloud's deep dream.

In the distances a universe away a foghorn sounds.
Resonating waters shiver;
sinews shake,
it wakes the hairs upon my skin.
A second answers mournfully from closer in;
the dialogue of dinosaurs
crying out their lostness in a lonely world.

I wander home, fogdrip falls like tears around me
but something luminous inside
is tingling still,
thrilling to the strangeness of
the changeling air.

(c) A McN