With our ash

A clear day
        and no memories
a birth at dawn
        in the heart of the woodland
where foxes and squirrels
        roam timelessly
where owls sit out
        the sunlight scarcely
stirring until dusk
        where the air is dank
from decaying vegetation
        damp soil out of which
new growth new life
        the sting of nettles
and the beauty
        of blue bells
we who are of the earth
        must pay our dues
with our love
        with our ash

John Lyons


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