“Fording The Stream” by Jessica de Guyat

The pilgrim follows the crude path further than before. The promise of white sand under his bare feet, pink shells glistening in the half-light and the glow of emerging moonlight on his gnarled face spur him on despite the lengthening shadows. The lane twists and turns, revealing now and then glimpses of the promised destination ahead. The light is fading fast and he quickens his steps. There is a marked stillness as he rounds the final bend where countryside meets ocean. He leans on his stick and drinks in the moment, precious and sacred.

Becalmed boats bobbing
Dewdrops listen in silence
To noiseless breathing

Wayside graves dreaming
Holding anaesthetised lives
Prisoner forever

Odour of stagnant water
Drifting from the nearby pond
Dragonflies hover

Croft chimneys smoking
Grey cat-tails spiralling high
Into the half light

Turning away he heads for the village, holding his…