Otherworld

As I let Raff out this morning I saw the mist and it called.



It said "Come out to play, come find the cusp of the Otherworld just the other side of  your door"

And I went.



And I saw how my world melted away, how now empty branches had poems to say.



I saw in the farmer's field rows of hay laid bare, lines to circles of stone that aren't there.



I saw looming barrows just off in the mist, where I know for certain they do not exist.



And down by the river the wild geese were calling, my soul was flying as raindrops were falling.



This liminal world of mystery and shift will fade as the sun comes and dew starts to lift.



But I know deep inside in my heart made of myth, there are ways I can wander in stones, barrows and mist.