Red Cedar
My gratitude goes to Emily Hancock from St Brigid Press, who kindly reviewed my drafts and helped me find the right words for a piece from this winter.
Red Cedar
Fire falls down
from a tall redcedar tree
at my village’s edge
Leaving a dream friend behind
I open my eyes to the dark
In the great intimacy
there is no resistance to any
particular direction
Snowflakes this morning
appear to float somehow slower
I skip among
the last patches of snow
in the afternoon light
Arriving at the cedar, the one
I’ve visited since I was small