Winter in the menopause

I lay myself onto the ground

meet the winter in my autumn years, folding inwards

Offering myself to rest

Curled in, hibernating, still

Movement going on around me

I m slow under the sky of flashing birds and moving air

Wet earth, grey clouds, cold wind at my face

Strands of hair sticking to my cheek.

Beauty in this dying phase so piercing

Seems like there will never be life again

All springs outward flurry and excitement turned in

Condensing to this concentrated moment

Where incredible activity goes on unseen

Movement in the stillness touching dream.