solanoire

I bless myself with burn water,
loch water,
rock water;
with moss water,
bog water,
sap.

I eat a gorse flower that faces toward Suilven
and a gorse flower that looks to the sea.

I stand with the many-armed hazel,
the gatherer of the wood,
larch cones caught in its branches
and honeysuckle vines twining up its trunks
and its own catkins dangling overhead,
quivering delicately
like mercifully silent wind chimes.

I hold the lean paper limbs of birch
and pull myself to them.

I make myself belong.

Culag Wood, Lochinver, Sutherland, Scotland
20th May 2020