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Walking the worn path
Outside the house,
outside of myself.
All passions and pain,
subside for a moment in time,
when I walk the worn path that leads,
to the river.
My arms full of iris , lavender , rosemary,
sage , sweet woodruff , roses , borage,dianthus,
lemon balm , yarrow and columbine.
I cast them all in the river
For all of you,
my friends , and for me....
because I need healing and love too.
I kneel at the edge of the peaceful river
and drop the flowers and herbs
one by one , they float on soft
crystal green currents
out to the sea.
The rains fall lightly on my head
as I look up into the grey sky,
tree swallows dance in the dusk
I reach into my pocket and
take out slices of bread.
I call to my frineds the crows,
I spread the bread pieces out over the rocks.
The crows have an offering too,
of mystical nights and magical dawns.
I save a few pieces for the trees
my other friends.
To the myrtle , the alder , the apple
the cedar , the walnut , the redwood.
And now I walk the path back home
to sleep and dream and hope for
a better tomorrow,
but mostly.... for....
Sue Bee 2002 ~
Brightest Blessings to All ~
Oh what is it about the green of shamrocks that sets my heart to spinning? ~ I'll se ye in Ireland !
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