Far Distant Hills

I have been known to sit in a window or near a window and gaze, off into the distance, for a long time. I did this from an early age, it was only later that I realised it was a kind of meditation, a kind of dreaming..

Oh……He is off with the fairies again…


On those

Far distant hills

Are hung

The post it note memories

Of another me


I dressed them

With my dreams

And in my being

I heard their wise

And comforting words


In the wet

Water bottle mood

Of a rain drop window

I feel their deep

Earthen sigh


As the steady caress

Of life tickles them

And muffles

Tracing and chasing

My way

Through the curtain lace


In the brilliant

And audacious


The pastel pink

Light of beginning

Starts the day


As they chatter

Of a country far away

And show me

The velvet staircase

Winding deep

Into my heart


Those circles made

They dance

In the rings of gold


And it brings


…..And again


Their now quiet


Whispers in my ear

And calms me


They hold the firey


Safe, in the autumn leaves

And bear the footsteps


And call the weary



Across the waves


With the siren song

In the fractious


Of the newborn’s

Angry tear


They hold the scent

Of all my loves


Falling as the casual

Curl on the collar

And the copper

Plaits in the arch of a shoe


In their warm

Caring arms

They hold the

Fragile echoes

Of the voices

In the wind


And they share


They share my secrets