Holding Space for a Rock

Conklin Gully, Hi-Tor autumn 2016

You lie on your back

Absorbing the clouds’ textures —

Pulled sheep’s wool, stippled custard, spun sugar

Floating, drifting, sailing


You begin to name silently —

Charging buffalo, tail of fox,

Dragon’s breath, bearded clam

Whimsy, your fanciful self too busy

To lie still-minded, one with the clouds

The rock appears as a full-breasted woman

The sun an exotic disc from alien space

Acorns falling — an atonal percussion

The steady trickle of the drought-stricken gorge

A powerful amniotic hypnotic

And the ordinary man by your side?

Of course —

A prince among men,