Are you cold?
We watched the kestrel plummet and the buzzard dive,
And survive.
Why are we here?
Who is cold?
Who feels old?
We found our wings among those stones,
We found our song,
We dive and land and gather,
Birds of a feather,
Wingtip to wingtip,
A hand to hold,
We enter,
Lamp lit,
Into the dark womb,
Outside the world continued.
Bobbie holds the lantern,
A smile behind a beard he hides,
A million tales of stars,
And stones as big as houses,
Of places over huge big sea,
Of places you can get back for tea,
Are you cold?
Would you like some bread?
Is there any bloody mead!?
Community and clarity
In awe those stones with dignity,
Step out and with your heart,
Sing for our own humanity.
Tread softly dear people,
As you walk away,
Imagine,
And the image is made real.
Leave here,
Leave these sleepy people,
Who walked softly with their Grandmothers,
Who sang songs to their Grandfathers.
By Trish Fraser 21 December 2005.
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