Now I knew of Earth’s interconnectedness,
but I wasn’t aware of a witch circle at school.
The evidence, disguised as a part of the art exhibition, makes me
want to enquire if I might join.
Do you circle it, or stand within that woven loop
of branches? What do you chant? Or do you sing?
Forgive me my ignorance but your secrecy has always meant that
you evaded me. A memory unhappily quelled.
With what do you connect?
Divinities? Nature? Spirits?
Or maybe you share ineach other?
Did your supernatural wisdom bring you unending peace?
What is the form of your magic?
Are you sending me a message as the wind blows through my hair?
Should I be decoding clouds which pass before the sun?
Or is it in a lull of life that greater things are learnt?
If the loop was broken and then laid out in a line,
a wave would form – of willow, though – and I ask myself,
‘What does this mean?’ Does rise and fall reflect a life,
a time of being in one’s prime then fading to one’s death?
I wonder so, yet you say naught –
do you dislike my curious mind?
The loop is moving in the breeze – a shaking head.
But am I wrong and could that mean I’m free to ask much more?