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 inenvironment, nature, poetryTags:earth, identity, joy, life, literature, love, poem, soul, spirit, writing
Published by Cara Amy Goldthorpe
Entrepreneur, earth warrior, storyteller and lawyer, with a mission to promote ways of living more harmoniously with nature and with each other. View more posts