Where are the owls

Blodeuwedd?

Called into the smoky trees

of Summer?

Calling in the daytime.

Songs of desolation.

Where are the hares?

The horses? Epona?

The chalky grassland

has abandoned them.

We, The Wild Ones must,

In Spirit, gather now.

Leave the gardens

And the fenced off fields.

Here, on the fore shore

In the space

between the tides,

between the worlds,

we need to weave a web

of love and welcome,

to forge a channel

for the powers

of Life and Joy.