How easy we forget
the silence of the night.
The hush,
the wind
stirring the leaves.
A rustle in the grass,
a hawk shadow in the sky.
Turning our senses,
fine,
to the natural world.
The river runs down
from the mountains
to the sea.
All that it brings
to feed,
and nourish the family.
There is magic
in the way
we walk through the trees,
and all of these
petty little things
fall away
in between
the moonlight in the leaves.
No question
of who we are,
here.
No conflict,
only survival.
Content and comfort
wear their fleeting forms.
Just another thing.
No more valuable.
There is always
a little bit of fear.
In the night.
It’s what keeps us aware.
For this world
has always been
dangerous.
It turns out
that safety
is an illusion.
Here,
in the darkness,
the forest encloses
around us,
like a mother’s arms.
The mountains
stand firm beneath us,
surrounding us,
keeping us safe from harm.
So we perceive;
there is magic
in the starry sky.
We can feel it
in our bones.
HG – 2020
