…still remiss, but I’m back…

I did apologise and now I must again …sorry, sorry, sorry, but I took myself off for a month, with my hubby of course, to the UK. I hadn’t been home in 37 years and not lived there for 46 so it was a huge event for me. Actually it is one of which I have yet to recover from in all the positive ways. No matter how we love where we have chosen to make our home, our birthland is still the one that tugs at us. It whisks little peripheral images past, to send one searching for the illusive something that makes a little sense of our need for roots, ancestry and purpose.

PICT0039 (1).JPGNow I have to find the means to be here and there simultaneously! I live in wild country. Its colouring, similar to the moors of Devon and the weather not dissimilar either but the smell and taste are different; the mystery is haunting and the moors have a chunk of me now. Stones and moss, cairns and mystery…

Dryads dance their circle round
with eerie flight that makes no sound
over mossy green and stony ground
be still …don’t let yourself be found
for if they see you’re wide-eyed gaze
a glamour may fall, eyes droop as they glaze
…over in wonder …it will amaze
as you circle with them in a feverous daze
They will sing and chant …hear their bell-like call
you will dance with them, ’till to the ground you’ll fall
On and on through the night under a full moon’s thrall
…waking stiff and spent in a sleepy sprawl…

S0, how do I bring them together ..well that’s the journey I wish to share with you, piece by piece. So bear with me while I bring my fluffy, fuzzy, and still somewhat jet-lagged head together, and we’re off on a journey of visuals, poetry and stories of sacred sites and standing stones …the key will be …all land is sacred.

…bright blessings on a cold, wintry day …Penny

© …verse, text and photos …Penny Reilly

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