Victoria Mosley

 

Last night

they came

 

my horses.

 

Grey, with

bright white

 

manes;

 

the sea

a moonlit

 

mirror.

 

I walked

the sand

 

a gentle breeze,

my hand entwined

 

in lion’s mane.

 

Last night

the shadows

 

set me free,

& I,

 

a Circe

come again

 

wove spells

from moss &

 

called the names

of creatures

 

great & small.

 

This morning’s

sun is hot

 

with life,

 

it blazes on

my lemon

 

tree,

 

but I prefer

the shaded

 

night

 

to walk in

silence

 

spirit led

 

while other’s

dream.