Swimming like a siren in the wild sea

Gather shells to listen in closely 

books to read nestled under the trees

Balsamic for the array of coloured greens

Songs from Spain to ease the spirit and dance the flame

Born again from fado blaring through the house

I see for the first time the lushness of the land

Passion enlivens where it lives despite

Slow walk toward the blue out of the grey

Making love to sad is love on a summer afternoon

Rain will cleanse our heart too of all that sits in us

The body dances to its own tune and sings us through

The turn of healing is always coming through

gypsy skirts whilst on the floor beading kyanite 

silver pendants of arch-ways decorated with my own folk patterns

poetry books left scattered on the table, the house of logic abandoned 

Isis, goddess of motherhood, magic and fertility is blessing the night 

White anemones in a potted vase from Crete, barely veiled in indigo sarongs 

free from all the straight lines and the soul starved places.