With cold hands entangled

through her mane,

Epona carried me on winding goat paths

and over tumbling streams.

Together we crossed the

wildest mountain passes

across moors of twisted heather

where bees rise on currents

of honeyed air.

She returned me

to all the places I had loved

in life.

Through cities of stone,

across ancient bridges

spanning rivers of light.

She carried me through rolling pastures

and shaded woodland.

Where amid the sleeping oaks

the green earth opened

and we returned

into the shadows.

 

 

I slide my hand under the roots of

summer present and summers past.

I push gently, deep into the earth

and there I find

the heart of Epona

beating, under this land

and I know

the circle of life

goes on.

 

Deborah E.Jordan. July 08