Sarah Rossiter

Now is the timeto be still and listen,This is the beginning,Help us to hear,Rooted and rising,The sound of the sea,A whisper, a murmur,Help us to beFluid and flowing,The womb of creation,Rising in water,Rooted in earth,The Sacred is risingIn time to give birth,Mother and daughterSister and . . . . Continue Reading »

Listeningto acorns fallfrom the oaksin the last lightof a late summerday to land out ofsight on the darkforest floor,I wonder howmany will findtheir way intothe soil to rootin secret, waitingfor spring to sendtimid tendrils intothe dangerous air.Not many, I suppose,life being what it is,though in a . . . . Continue Reading »

Without warning, they appear, eachcluster separate from the next, goldbeads strung on strands of grass,glowing on the darkest days beneaththe fringe of summer trees, though whoknows how, or where they came from?Yet faith, not knowledge, is the sourceof hope that each bright blossom bringsalong with . . . . Continue Reading »