yards of fine yarn

Sula…

(soulagé…)

Sitting in the sun – hearing
rosemary feeding bees
turning those darker days
into sweeter honey –

in this new age of our lives
I will light a fire for us
(I was never more
me, never less
fractal)

everlasting living,
Beltane flames dancing,
we leaping through seven times, each crossing
a different circle
of cleansing,
leaving mere ashes as reminders of
the dead wood of darkness.

We pass,
blessed by now fertile ashes.

Sun surprises the season,
bringing ashes to new earth, new leaves,
new fruits, new

silent space for us to connect,
to find “what now? “ to be a doorway,
you/life spinning  yards of fine, silken yarn
to pattern wings, spreading
by awakening paths
these new found currents (flowering futures), thus
bringing us home finally in

all worlds equally real

and I (like the bees)
feed these new days…