Hanging in Compton Hanger
silence opens eyes to the vista.
walking lightly as the feather on the breath
lightly on earth’s broken crust
trees remind of fallen hero’s grounded
seed heads abundance ripened.
movement compels, forward moral
breath cutting through the cold ramet of winter.
the green land becoming greener, sap rising
climbing up spent wood. Stump, bygone of mortal’s plans
Grass moist to touch,
stile hewed by past pilgrim’s touch
a stopping place,
past the knowing into the unknowing
into the peaceful knowing
Write something about yourself. No need to be fancy, just an overview.