An Ancient Pulse
Published in
1 min readAug 8, 2019
A poem
Ancient magic pulses through the red earth;
nature’s chant to greet the dying cinders
of a day passed from the magician’s hand
to the witches white moonbeams that dance,
swaying with the world’s rhythm on bare feet
as the autumn leaves swirl, making merry
with the sun’s threads spilled into season’s wake.
Copyright © 2019 Bridget Webber. All rights reserved
