All things are transient,
the Rowan tree grows,
season on season.
Senses the earth breathe
and shift in her roots.
The sun feeds her leaves.
Blossoms fruit to ripe red berries.
Away the leaves fall,
night sky winters,
and frost snaps at her branches.
She will repeat to fade.
–
Shoeless Carole lives on the edge of open countryside in the Wigan area. As a child, she grew up in Pendle witch country, giving her a simple knowledge of folk magic and paganism, which has always stayed with her. She now works as a qualified nurse and herbalist. This poem was written on a late summer’s day spent in a wood at Silverdale, and is about the wheel of the year and perseverance through the darkest, coldest days to new hope.
–
hyacinth noir 