Friday, July 14, 2006


The stones are a doorway to the beyond
Where a single flame burns in the darkness.
Further in, a bonfire calling the sun:
The sun in splendour, behind a round hill
Embracing the moon, in love's ecstasy
Her tongues of fire, his shadow-tendrils

The radiant stones embrace all comers:
The hooded ones wait, holding the sacred,
Dreaming of the land; their wisdom enfolds
and holds the valley, keeping its secrets.
Bramble and elder twining together
Guard the mound's entrance. As we walk away
The waters of sleep close over the mound.

Yvonne Aburrow

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