In Gowan Ring A Bee At The Dolmen's Dell
Where will you go? What will you do?
When the moon would meet a rising sun?
I'll echo the stones in motion and rhythm
To breathe a moon sheathed tone
With eyes in the heavens
A chain of flame, image in starry bowl
Hands in the sky, thoughts as clouds
Vast in moving arms
The fish and the fisher
The boat and the water
The Sun that circles the Star
The throstle, the worm
The eagle, the lion
The dove, calf, and lamb
The weave in the water, a glint on the spade
Bending the gnarled strand
Dewed and tallow, spindled, unspun
On cipher's string strung
The heft of the handle
The blade in the slit
The earth and the bloody wound
The sheen of the slab
The supple steam
Gleaming moon stone smooth
A broken heart laughing
Fold into figure
Woven on sylvan shells
The saints and the sentries
With tassel and withy
A bee at the dolmen's dell
