I trust in cradling clouds of cicelyIts silken spilling, mirroring the stars,I trust the hawthorn creaming into frothyAlong the margin of the sacred wood
I rest in hush, heady with damp silence,In caverns where the cliff is mossed with life,I rest in light where sky is stained with rainbow,I trust, I rest in joy.
Published on May 02, 2018 06:38