Folky as stuff

A co write with Carol Beckwith

Circled Stone

Resting light,  start of day
Swathe of crystal mapped with grey
Dappled, spotted, lies awake
Circled stones against the grain

Shoulders heavy, now begun
Craving rain in the sun
Far off shadows, mottled blue
Circled stones are they mocking you

The shifting rays and the stones unite,
Like choir voices in the dawning light


And all are equal, each is made
Disconnected, but unashamed
Sitting proudly, on display
Circled stones won’t fade away

Circled Stone  (Banks/Beckwith)

Curlew Call
The Curlew is a bird with an amazing song. It comes back every year but they are on the decline. I love it when you hear the call.

Curlew Call

The words of the poet Robert Frost made into a song at the Shetland Songwriting Festival

The Aim Was Song

Before man came to blow it right
     The wind once blew itself untaught,
And did its loudest day and night
     In any rough place where it caught.
 
Man came to tell it what was wrong:
     It hadn’t found the place to blow;
It blew too hard—the aim was song.
     And listen—how it ought to go!
 
He took a little in his mouth,
     And held it long enough for north
To be converted into south,
     And then by measure blew it forth.
 
By measure. It was word and note,
     The wind the wind had meant to be—
A little through the lips and throat.
     The aim was song—the wind could see.

The Aim Was Song

It is Quiet, It is Hushed

https://www.heligan.com/explore/estate/woodland

There is a living statue in Cornwall in the Lost Gardens of Heligan. She sleeps and changes with the seasons

It is Quiet, It is Hushed

Danielle