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The Library - Fiction for the Heart

Yakut, 01/02


In Spring you will find me
In the scent of narcissus and hyacinth
In the slightly lengthening days and renewed warmth of the Sun
In the bubbling waters of streams and the high tides of the ocean
In the greening of the willow tree
And in the joyful cry of the lapwing seeking her mate
And the gallant courage of the upsurge of all new life.

In Summer I am the poppy, both red and white
And the opulent black-red rose
I am the golden corn, the lush green grass
And the calmer, warmer seas of shimmering cobalt - inviting
I am a she-wolf, well fed for once
Lying in the sun, I smile and play with my cubs
I am long, lazy days and warm passionate nights
Under a canopy of stars.

In Autumn I am each leaf that falls - gold, orange, red
And every bloom that withers and dies
I am the ripe apple and the sweetest blackberry -
Protected by thorns and hidden from view
I drowse amongst the half-stacked sheaves at Harvest
And give myself up to my lover without struggle.
Ripe and juicy - I am also the call of chill on the wind
warning of cold and darkness and lack to come.

In Winter I am the cry of both crow and corncrake
I am bare, black branches, severe against the opaline sky
The wuthering of the wind and the lashing, sheets of rain
I am the life-giving ocean waters tossing wildly and roaring,
Now become freezing, black and lethal.
But I am also the frosted spider's web sparkling with impossible intricacy
And the rasping breath of the she-wolf - three days now with neither food nor sleep
As I hunt for food for my one remaining cub.

Throughout every season, every life-cycle,
Of every being, in every place
I am constantly expressing and being
Feeling and holding
Sacred space
I am/feel all that there is or ever can be
Yet the whole world seems to hate my face
Despised, enslaved and used am I
In every heart and every place.

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