Ballet of the Sea.

The Earth seen from Apollo 17.

The Earth seen from Apollo 17. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

Drops of foam

defying gravity.

Endless body

stretching, flexing

awesome liquid muscles.

Edges tapping

a Titan’s rhythm

on Earth’s drum.

Paso doble

of the mighty twins.

The dance has just begun.




Earth Song

I listen to the earth song

The humming of the land.

Wind howling round the eaves

And in the trees.

On the shore the sea

Rushes, gulls cry

Seals echo eerily.

Rain falls, drumming, pattering,

Streaming down the hillsides.

I hear the robin calling sweetly

At daybreak,

Tawny owls in the darkness.

Cat fights and the screams

of little creatures dying.

Hedgehogs crunching, frogs dropping

Ploppily into the pond.

The gentle base notes of the bees at noon.

Women singing lullabies.

Sky larks high above the dunes.

I listen to the earth song.



The festival of the first fruits – the beginning of the harvest.  Time to give thanks to the Green Goddess and John Barleycorn.   Traditionally bilberries and blackberries would be picked.  Bread would be baked.  A feast  of celebration prepared.


Here in wet Wales, as we travel down the lanes and back roads, we are assailed by the scent of cut grass and honeysuckle.  We are delayed by the the carts carrying the hay – given the opportunity at 15 mph to appreciate the willowherb,  meadowsweet and hogweed in the hedgerows.  A tinge of yellow in the sycamore trees hints at Autumn – the turning of the year is palpable.


In the garden the first tiny runner beans emerge amongst a riot of blossom.  Marjoram and fennel flower beside the rhubarb.  Bees hum and pigeons thrum.


The full moon is unseen behind the banked clouds.  Higher tides wash the beaches leaving a treasure trove of shells, driftwood, feathers and mermaid’s purses.


I bake bread,   make a somewhat fragile corn dolly from wheat that has sprouted beneath my bird feeders.   I walk the land, chanting my thanks.   I build an altar – wheat,  candles, sandalwood incense, seashells.   I make my offerings to the earth – bread and mead.   I light my candles,  say my words,  sing the songs in my heart.  I glory in the life I have been given.   Blessed be.

Gift of Today

A colder, greyer

day today.

No horizon

out at sea.

No treetops

on the hill.

Sweet scented smoke

swirls between

the beams.

Beads of water –


on the cabbage leaves

as blackbirds carol

and pigeons flap

and fluster.

The treasures

of  today

are laid before me

and I am humbled.