Wisps of white
weaving, pure mist
Like it’s coming from
sweet fairy fires
It’s hidden in
the rolling hills
Dancing through, into
the winter deep
And it holds me strong
with the mystical thought
I am all that I see
and I am all, beyond
Fairy fires
Posted byCara Amy GoldthorpePosted inenvironmentTags:earth, identity, joy, life, literature, love, nature, poem, poetry, soul, spirit, writing
Published by Cara Amy Goldthorpe
Storyteller, holistic health guide, and lawyer, with a mission to promote health and ways of living more harmoniously on this planet and with each other. View more posts