sunlight

The Truth

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

 

i made a long journey
like many before me
i had my fair share
of incidents, mishaps
some were of my own making,
others were simply there,
awaiting the unwary traveller

i learned much of the woods
how to read all the signs
and hear the approach
of the seekers of prey

i had little respect
for robbers and bandits
i had seen all their kind before
i held no vendetta against them
i dislike them neither more, nor less, now
than i did when i took to the road

i had made my own problems too
i wished to be left alone
sometimes yearning for home
it’s true

woods seem full of shadows
but darkness contrasts the light
and lets in the brightness of day
where is gleams through the branches
making clearer the safer way

i came to a clearing and rested
enjoying the peace,
listening to leaves sigh high on a breeze
above in the trees that whispered

if only i could stay
resting here forever
i looked at the paths leading on

it was a beautiful day
i felt some sense of completion

a sharp snap and an echo
the silence was gone
the sound of movement,
coming towards me,
secretly, fast

i felt a moment of panic
caught unaware
as they gathered around
to circle and slay me at last

calming my mind
i looked at the paths
the choices were many
which one should it be

i heard a signal
the voice of a raven
he stood in the sunlight
on a broad ancient branch of a tree
lit against shadow
by a path i instantly knew

it was as i had always imagined
well lit and wide open
it shone out beckoning me
nothing to fear any more
my weariness melted away
i saw i was home
this open wide path
lead straight to the door
where my soul awaited within

 

 

Travellers

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

From dolmen and hilltop in sunlight and rain
We travel the path as it opens again.
From mountain to ocean through woodland and glade
The way and the telling are already made.
The circle is whole and the pattern will grow
From time immemorial it’s always been so,
Sharing the joys of a journey that starts
In the melding of minds and the opening of hearts,
Recalling the magics that words cannot say
Finding the wending winds of the way
In the voyage of discovery we know who we are
As we follow the light of the mariners star

I will walk beside you as you walk beside me
Our story is the story that’s unbounded and free

At the Water Meadow

/ A. Gouedard / 1 Comment

After three days of sunlight

the May bursts forth,

shining white stars amongst hedgerow leaves.

In the marshlands tall grasses wave feathered plumes of gold and cream,

tender on green silken stems.

The sycamore bedecked in bright green catkin tails sways in a gentle breeze,

a reminder of lambs.

A blackbirds sings atop the cedars outstretched limbs,

a dark silhouette against bright blue sky.

Dandelions with sun-filled faces

spread across suddenly verdant pasture.

The air is filled with the scent of new mown grass,

fresh cut blades scatter at the grey roads side

as I wander home in the falling light.

 

At my door,

one dandelion forces its way upwards

through the red tiles of the doorstep,

spring strong, shining,

a signal that summer comes.

 

Life bursts into bud

quiet fanfare for summer

warmth, wonder, delight.

Love is equally enlightening.

 

Under the Willows

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

When we were young and dreaming

we hired a boat, floated beneath the bridges

made of worn and ancient stone

we rowed stronger and further than anyone else

to be alone on the tranquil river

 

We pulled in and laid back beneath willows

toes touching, smiling, reading

while the afternoon drifted downstream

dazzling sparks and flashes on ripples

sunlight filtering green through the leaves

 

We never thought to look deeper

into the darker shadows

to the tangle of weeds beneath us

but we rowed against the current

to make our way home in the evening

 

We were young and we were dreaming.

 

Girl in a Garden # 1

/ A. Gouedard / 2 Comments

the girl runs from house to garden
from garden to house and back again
thinking only of running
thinking only of the garden and the house
this house, this garden
the breeze and the sunlight pooled on the grass
and the swaying of the poplar trees

she has no memory of any other place
or time
the delusions of the world  unravelled
unspun they slipped away
this world complete enough

In Luxulyan Wood

/ A. Gouedard / Leave a comment

the disused viaduct spanned the valley
a leap of arches, stone piled up on stone,
where old channelled streams, cut into cold clay,
flowed away from the hazed heat of the day

i followed to the ancient, cool damp wood,
no longer frequented, my secret place
i was lost in thoughts and wandering daydreams
wrapped in deep silence, woven with bird-song

surrounded by scents, the creaking of trees
the soft bubbling sounds of the nearby streams
a rustle of leaves on a sudden breeze
that hushed and sighed with the fall of the wind

leaving deep shade for dazzling sunlight
i entered the clearing, briefly stood, blind
as my sight cleared, he was suddenly there
he in the east, i in the west, both transfixed

suspended in time, an unbroken gaze,
we stood in communion across space
the race of my heart the only sound
i slowly knelt to the ground without thought

he stood in a sunbeams magical glow
a fox, the like of which i never saw,
tall, strong, gleaming in deep red coat, he shone
the King of the woodland for evermore

kneeling before him quietly, i smiled,
making my respect and intention clear
our eyes held, i his bondsman and loyal kin,
in a place that stretched through air, almost near

a moment of true beauty kept me there
when, turning quickly, he vanished away
leaving me, standing in awe and pure joy
a vision of gold, held still in my heart