Sunday, 1 May 2011

Confession : where her soul lives


by Deborah Greaves on Monday, April 4, 2011 
My soul's outside under the rocks, the leaves, the snow, the rain. It lives in the furrows of the bark on the trees, in the dappled light on pools of water and among the waving grasses. It soars into the air in the moonlight, rests among the shadows and gleams on the water where my canoe paddle dips.

My soul lingers in the print of a wild hoof and the scars of a feral claw, in the tiny blooms that spring from the earth and the delicate mosses that cling to fallen stems.

My soul is out there, almost all the time, in the forest and the meadows. It comes inside only to share the glow of flickering candlelight or the primal beauty of a fire. When the flames are silent and darkness falls, it slips through the window casings and around the edges of the doors to be outside and free again.

1 comment:

  1. Made my soul yearn for the woods, looking forward to a walk in BC. beautiful work,

    Cheers Linda