As I read
I saw successive cups

make a mandorla,

and feeling blessed
by synchronicity,

I dove in

in song;

old tunes

by an earth-angel.

And later I lay
sloughing acquired fancies
in the dark,
with new ideas, pinking
and baby-like,
in a thin skin-coat
into the oldest of my souls.

A match to light the way.


3 thoughts on “Mandorla

  1. I’m blown away: Blessed by synchronicity. Hearing a hopeful message. Receiving guidance. Profoundly touched. Thank you.

    If I ever do a talk or workshop in the UK will you join me and read your exquisite poetry? You speak to the deepest yearnings of the soul in a way I’ve not heard before.

    • Never having read in public, I can only say yes to you. It was just after I’d commented on your blog that I saw this piece I barely remembered writing about three months ago, and like the synchronicitous cup marks, it made me nod and smile.
      And you Jeanie, for what you write here, I am deeply moved.

  2. As am I.

    Yaay! I shall have a minstrel bard! If I can make it happen, it will no doubt take a while. I’ll need help from friends across the pond. I’ll be in touch.

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