Somerset

SOMERSET

 She

who weaves mystique around me like a
robe
willing me to cling among the birdsong of her
daze.
Playing tricks along the edges
of her hedges and her wetlands
spent in torpor as a King lies deep

inside
her belly
waiting for his moment to
become.

Where mists gather up like ghosts
who trail their stories
one by one and
on and on
while hanging themselves in

endless

tireless

timeless

Shift.

At that still point of a
turning world
in a grave lying far beyond

All words.

Where boundless summer lies hidden and bidden
in the golden state
of a thousand dawns.
Scattered with starlings and honeyed by heat
a stone heart gently beats
to the rhythm which is hers alone.

Angela Huskisson