This day was warm and rainy.
I had a general idea of where I was headed,
what I was looking for
but no mapped route to follow, only the word of some passerbys.
That's how most of that corner of the world came to be for me,
how I ended up there, and how I left it.
I followed a lane a few miles past stony and inviting homes,
upwards through pastures.
English trees tend to reach for each other,
and in doing so create alluring passageways to follow everywhere.
Reaching a plateau in the altitude, I sauntered into a clearing,
and found a holy place.
The earth was sown with mist and silence here.
Stones nestled in a corridor between mountains,
asleep for centuries,
humming within my hands as I traced them
alone beneath a full moon.