Temples of Moss
A scintillant dawn broke open and bright.
On the path there was sorrowful dust.
The crunch of the gravel beneath my sad shoes,
Seemed like life was repeating itself.
At the old slated ruin I came to the Bridge.
I turned left and I drove further on.
Something impelled me away from the house
The ashes still dry on my tongue.
Then I stopped…and I walked in a copse.
The crown of the sky seemed so bright.
The trees in their tears were tossing and torn,
Catching the crystalline light.,
Tall solemn stones as Temples of Moss
Rose up from the ground like old souls.
They stretched to the hills and down out of sight.
Away from the Boreal zone..
The black wings of crows wove into the sun
A memorial movement in onyx.
Deep in the earth beneath the tough grass,
Pallid worms wove denuded of voice.
I conquered my thoughts in this short solitude
Finding again my own muse.
The birds sang out loud in their strong fortitude,
Like the chords of a wailing old blues.
I knew from then on…that the old ways were done….
And never again could they reign.
It had taken the years to shift into gear,
Being true to oneself was now clear.
Kristine Byrne…Nov. 2020