this village’s mist

Photo by Elinor Rowlands

My view waking up to the first morning in the village, have had my Italian coffee next hot water and lemon then a visit to E’s great grandparents and her great Auntie. Her great grandmother’s homemade blackberry tart fed us with fresh tangerines for breakfast

In memory of Gigi who died in 2021, just before Christmas

I became the stars over

This cold mist

Mist encircling the cold

Stones that uproot from the mountains

With new roofs and old views from new eyes

Sighing bright the skies filled with dusk the call of ancestors who embrace the kiss of life

Poured down like raindrops scattering this ground

Heat up our glasses, beer clinking

With fruit

A far off wine whisper

Wining whispers

A call to summoning

The moon

The sky widening with all of its might

Beware if you dare to stare into its white

Into its whisper

Into its past

A farming land

The farm houses scattered

A farming hand

Shakes itself into yours and the repercussions of trust

That the government would remember it

Fall away at its edges

And a theatre of life that summons the ancestors to remember the words

Of the greatest calling

The greatest falling

of stars

Of shine

Of shine

Hear the sea behind

Far out hills and tips of ancient embrace into fog

Into the mugginess

Into the side of spirit

Of a village atop a mountain

Of a village with a voice and a mine

Of a village with a past and a pause

Of a village that maintains the stories of its past into the rock

Past rumours when the music of hooves and shepherds horn was the only sound alone

Into the stone

Into the shade

Into a home

Into a home

Into a family

Into a mouth

Food glistens

As eyes remember a love, a moment, a memory

A moment infused with its spirit

This village hums on.

This village‘s mist - er 2021