Lindi-Ann Hewitt-Coleman

                                                                             In grateful and loving memory of Dusky Moon

i dreamed once
the white mare
ran along the forest edge
unbound
in a place that felt like home

and i waited and i searched
and i listened for that place
until, full pregnant,
i could wait no more
and the dream faded.

we built here on the hill
on some wattle cleared land
and the girls grew like the trees –
saplings reaching for the light,

until one evening
so much older
the white mare ran a path
we had made on contour – field to field
along the forest edge
and i saw her silver mane
bright against the depth of green
as i had so many years before in dream
and i knew that were home

and wondered if it was the dream
that called this here into being
or its being that seeded the dream.