Footfalls, wind,
Movement by stealth,
Design, retreat, approach
Again – the leitmotif of circling
For my broken ears
This native red, my earth or me,
I daren’t tell: everything I strained
To be still
Were they your whispers lush
That downward led and did I
Dizzy fall again?
My bed seems softer,
The cooling damp of the soil
Against my slackened skin,
All the hidden roots beneath
A comfort: they absorbed
From me as I in silence might
To greater silence flee
But for the bell-like swirl,
But for the promise of a music
Never echoing
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