Enter a caption
Resisting night’s gravity
I rise to the Heavens,
clay on boots,
dusk at my heels,
slipping up to the
lonely grove on the brow,
where a year ago,
we planted a circle of hope.
Now I stand alone
in silent vigil.
Aurora of the day
sliding away, behind
Rodborough’s bear shoulders.
It is a satisfying death –
a great actor’s swansong.
A star born for this moment.
The lights fade, and, on cue,
another nova.
No desecrating ruckus
at a stone circle is needed
to mark this annual valediction – leave
the vandals to their
trilithon abuse and stoned selfies.
I have no need of the Am-dram
of dodgy rituals,
the posturing of ill-cast hierophants.
My gaze is for the sun alone.
Quietly, I say goodbye.
From The Immanent Moment, Awen 2010
The Bardic Academic 