The Mist of Avalon
Up earlier than the worm
Too early for most moist awareness
Quickening the paper of my awareness
I moisten the fold of night's remainders
Is it now time to dance through the fairy ring?
Mist is upon the land & in the fog of exploration I sit
I wait for the wee far cry of the other world
I will not be alone no more from my wee people
of the mist
wild world, wild wood, wild calls, and dances
of an ancient time
I sprout my fey & they no longer trim my ears
to keep me safe, safer is the plain than the moist
calling of this sea of wee wind and cockle shells
I sing the song of my past as the Morrigan
of the black hills of Avalon. A black goddess
of the Moors, the swan guarded mist of the Isle.
I hear the pitch in the mist, & there be no coins
on my eye.
~ Raven SuSane
