Seeking refuge By Nigel Crisp

Up on the ridge, the wind takes charge

blowing fiercely, not letting go, no room for

any thought, but breathing, walking

wind and sound and lungs and legs and

nothing else

The gulls check up on me from far above

passing in waves, they run down the wind

white horses in the grey sea skies

in search of new horizons, they can see

for ever

Down the slope the neolithic grave

grief so old, it freezes history, held still

I stand and watch the turf and stones

and let the past climb over me and

blow away

Further on, trees hold out their branches

come in peace, hidden from the wind they

collect the energy from sun and air

and share with us the magic of all

living things

She greets me at the gate, tall chestnut mare

confident and strong, in perfect balance

leaning in she strokes my hand and cheek

whispers welcome brother, sister,

soul.