poem by Clare:
the tree takes its death slowly
I am sheltered under a tree that has not finished falling
earth hangs, thread -roots over head, not under feet
I am under the avalanche of torn apart mud lava
view changed to ground level, skin level, soil
I hold a fallen tree on my back, cannot hold this fall
a beech blanket, flesh open to air for the first time
I lie under a fallen tree leaving
if it broke now I would die
a hidden earthing
Words by Sophia
Thank you all for sharing your giggles, movement, ice, badger bracken, skipping, fence demolishing, dances, food stories. I made us all the sap ointment, so Christa could take hers home back to Holland.
Hazels swaying high and tall
my body reflecting the motion
of wind taking the whispering
till I can' t feel my own dance
just the to and fro
and softly back into pause
with grass icescape ice sky
wet bark fragility
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