Druid

Against a near-dark sky
a lone figure stands:
tall,
straight,
unmoving.
And for a moment
this is not merely a man;
instead a druid,
ancient,
in all his still and silent power,
lost in contemplation
of the departing moon.
The sand seems to shimmer
and a ripple of energy
passes beneath him,
spreading outward
even to where I sit,
mesmerised.
The ground is reaching upwards,
surging with power and
embracing the moment of communion
made possible by the presence of this
human lightening rod of
listening possibility.
Air pulses in response
and the moment is gone.
The world grows lighter
and the figure moves,
simply a man once more.
But the moment is not lost
for it has been witnessed.
I have heard, have felt,
the call of Earth,
heard its conversation with the Sky.

Ruth Davmor