Month: January 2019

By candlelight her story told
whispered in the humble night,
there is more there than can be heard,
treasure in her gifts and words.

She scorns not the gleaners field
nor that infertile soil
nor crumbs from the table fallen
or the labours of her toil.

See how the feather freely floats,
caught in the draft of spirit,
she is learning now its language,
is resting in its merits.

they speak without a chosen thought
They who hide the treasured gift
But she who earths the precious gold
Knows how soon the price can shift.

Oh stand with me, yes stand with me
Beside this drifting shore
Where the wind eats at the harbour
Where the rope is tied secure.

It cut her short and stole her breath
And broke her heart in three
The little ship is cut adrift
On the anger of the sea.

I caught her eyes and held her hand
and we watched the darkness fall
across the evening twilight
broken by the morepork’s call.