Standing Up Again

I’m sorry that I lost my way

to end up here, beneath this tree,

its withered branches reaching low

to touch the ground, and shelter me.

~

Bracken wavers in the breeze,

that blew across the bay, below;

that brushed around the rocks, and vraic;

that found – past land – its upward flow.

~

A small seed traces through my gaze,

bobbing round, a spectre borne

in secret air; I watch it each

way torn, now trapped upon a thorn.

~

A bee appears, darts directly

to the wind, shoots up high,

and joins in currents of the air

to vanish quickly in the sky.

~

The wind now breaks inside my den

and rushes coldly through my heart,

I know the time is come for me

to let my foolish worries part.

~

With so much good, why should I fear

I’ll helplessly be drawn away?

I’ll choose my mind and set my course and

live, still better, every day.