THE UNSEEN ONE:

She of herbs, hares & whispered hot spice,

Of breath upon hallowed hoar & ageing mice,

She of bat-night cauldrons, burning red bright,

Of cracking twig, one hears echoing at night,

She is the unseen one.

 

She who walks, upon night´s silent dark paths,

Who watches otters, at their secretive baths,

She who drifts, upon those autumn grey mists,

Who when needed, simply, softly-shape-shifts,

She is the unseen one.

 

She, of the shifting seasons that just come & go,

Of sunshine, moonbeams & cool winds that blow,

She, of raven´s caws & wagtail’s sweet whistles,

Of forest floors, blooms & humble thorned thistles,

She is the unseen one.

 

She who tiptoes silently, across everyone´s lands,

She takes control, out of our small grasping hands,

We feel her presence, in sight & sighing soft breath,

But she merely passes by, from birth till our death,

She is the unseen one.