where wonders born
of magic lines
twist between Earth & Sky,
saw there a figure striding,
the blood-red graphite of his leather jacket –
briny skies reach down to hard stones.
Grey lines cracked
in an image of sharp memory-
The Man of Grey,
hair in the long red loom,
The boughs kneel before him now.
When behind him, he heard that sound,
like a faint breeze in the tree tops –
yet there was no wind blowing;
in all of the wood was the stillness
that holds a picture in its frame.
There, looking for wrens and thunder stones,
his steps grew glens,
his breath brewed bowers –
whispering cups of moss-flowers
call out names of forgotten lovers,
fish, dreaming in languid lakes,
murmur of soft summer kisses
lingering by the shore at dusk.
As the pine tree followed him,
The Man of Grey came upon that place,
green as darkness in the shade of old trees,
old as dawn’s first memory,
a leaf-gift ring , a timber trove.
It was the same size as the wings of empty wind in a large-star filled room,……..
king of forest,
loyal oak-soul, song bringer
lights the soul’s fire-hearth,
embers ignite memory,
Process Note; Having re-worked a digital image I had made a while ago, I used it as a prompt. Playing into the imagery associations was my recent reading of Suzanne’s Behind the waterfall, which in turn reminded me of Lord Dunsany’s The King of Elfland’s Daughter.
As the piece grew, it took on an Old Anglo Saxon tone in the construction of images, setting & character. I concluded it with a Fibku.