Forever Yew

 

The Craigends Yew by Rashelle Reid

Yew

tree, layering,

enticing; the curious,

the seeker to contemplate,

signs, rebirth is always occurring

and that even decay can herald

the birth of new life.

As the cycle continues

and the circle

remains unbroken

forever.

 

The Craigends Yew by Rashelle Reid

 

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Craigends_Yew

 

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Just Gulling Around

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Bottoms Up

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The Oystercatcher

In heraldry the bearer of the Oystercatcher is said to be shy, yet vigilant, and always on the alert.

The Oystercatcher is the national bird of the Faroe Islands, in Faroese called “Tjaldrið”.  

In Connaught, the oyster-catcher was known as Giolla Bride, Bride’s Page.

Brighid, Goddess of the Poets, Ironworkers, and various agricultural practices.

Among the Gaels this bird is an emblem of St. Bride, who carried one in each hand. It bears the form of a cross on its plumage as it once covered Christ with sea-weed when his enemies pursued him. It is called Brid-eun, ‘Bride’s Bird’ or Bigein-Bride, ‘Bride’s Boy’, in Gaelic.

http://www.faroeislands.fo/Default.aspx?ID=13596

http://www.heraldryclipart.com/symbolism/o.html

http://www.summerlands.com/crossroads/library/ENCYCLOPEDIA%20OF%20THE%20CELTS/Encyclopedia%20of%20the%20Celts%20%20O%20-%20Oyster-Catcher.htm

http://whitedragon.org.uk/articles/brighid.htm

http://www.celticheritage.co.uk/virtualshrine/brighid.cfm

http://www.celticheritage.co.uk/virtualshrine/brighid.cfm

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Sensing the Cycles

Going through the motions,

as the world goes round and round.

The stunning colours entrance me,

as I tune into the sounds

Western winds are calling,

drowning out the cold

Curious if I could translate,

would I know what I’d been told.

Crunching through the leaves

as they lay upon the ground.

adding another dimension

to all the autumn sounds.

Drop after drop

the rain caresses my cheek,

wondering will I find

this treasure that I seek.

The reds, the golds,

shining so bright.

As the autumn passes

like day becomes night.

Winter chills here now

and I want my bed.

The freezing temperatures

the thing that I dread.

Hibernating and renewing,

all the years toil has taken.

Letting go like the trees

whose leaves have been shaken.

Is it true ever snowdrop,

is really unique?

If we knew the answer,

would it lose its mystique?

Catching a snowflake,

on the tip of my tongue.

Melting away

I catch another one.

A taste? I wonder,

but I’m not quite sure.

What I do know is,

it’s time for indoors.

 

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A Bird In Flight

A bird in flight, such a glorious sight.

A reminder of pure delight.

Soaring, flying, above the noise.

Reminding us of freedom’s joys.

Graceful as she ascends the heights.

Descending with her aim in sight.

A bird in flight, such a glorious sight.

©2014 copyright ~All Rights Reserved  Rashelle Reid

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