
The shaman’s spirit
abroad, deep in winter’s woods;
speaks in runic tongues
Copyright Francis 2021

The shaman’s spirit
abroad, deep in winter’s woods;
speaks in runic tongues
Copyright Francis 2021

I am forced inside
like winter sap, waiting; long
nights in search of sleep
Copyright Francis 2021

Pausing for the view,
greenness is everywhere.
Solitary smile
Copyright Francis 2021

My soul’s prime journey,
flooded fen to woodland crag —
see where I have been
Copyright Francis 2021

Nothing can stop it,
spring will come when it’s ready —
blue tit is calling
Copyright Francis 2021