Ensnared – a vine, full
Fruit lay like a prayer mat
My wail; a birdsong.
Where it goes I follow
My mind’s rooted here
In the shadow of sunrise;
When it moves, I move.
(c) A Hannan
Turning and turning…
Language, a fever
Narrating skyward, deep moans
Veiling our sunrise.
Image titled ‘Walking Through The Fields of Gold’ by Helena Bebirian
Confronting me, Love,
A coffer of rich gold skin,
Spread across the vale.