Within the Silence and the Still, the Light

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I heard an infant crying in the night

A new born lamb come mewling to the fold

It’s writ on ancient stone in words of old

‘Within the silence and the still, the light’

The moon is high, the mistle berry white

The ice shines in the darkness, in the cold

The stars are born, as all the bards foretold

Within the silence and the still, the light

Insists itself, as soft at first and slight

White shifts within the mist upon the wold

That lift as it comes rising rose and gold

Within the silence and the still, The Light!

New born in winter, beautiful and bright

Within the silence and the still, the light

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© Gail Foster 21st December 2018

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Burning Angels; Winter Solstice, 2017

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for the Druids of Avebury, and my muse

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So many kings of old have come to me

At midnight, in the winter, at the still

In crowns of holly, clothed with mystery

Come riding proudly down from yonder hill

With torches flaming, salamander eyes

Ablaze with ancient summers full of lust

And I have had them all within my thighs

And I have turned them all to ice and dust

Except for he who keeps my fires alight

When darkness falls too deep to understand

Who lies with me all winter, till the night

Recedes, and spring returns to seed the land

With him I make, beneath the mistletoe

The burning shapes of angels in the snow

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© Gail Foster 16th December 2017