Fay Slimm.

This Time.

 

 

This Time.

 

Holed with vermillion stars September\'s
clear night spreads eerie welcome over
my slow footsteps.
Bounded by heathering hills the gentle
valley strikes ache in heartstrings
as my roots sink into home\'s velvet skin.

 

This time as I take in remembered aroma
of moorland\'s\' lavender fringes
with twilight\'s finger striating late sky
my wanderer\'s eyes widen in
tune with coastal sounds as ocean below
cliffs pounds rock to sandy coves.

 

At last beauty of quiet pierces too long
an absence, punctures stale
failure and I ask why , when abandoned
for wealth or early ambition
do feet turn again to childhood\'s familiar
where birdlit the ghosts
of previous pleasures mingle with spirit
as frenetic yields to need 
of rest and tears, once shed with past
leavings nostalgia now takes
in hand and the answer is clear in that

this time I know I must stay.