my cille smells of pine no censer can aspire the floor layers of needles, bones and leaves wings flutter on the branches arches holding up the sky Raven flies between the forests Bear awakens deep within the apse the Word is a song of place and time and no place and no time drink of the life force from the long chalice flowing water with memories which flow shallow above and deep below i am not alone my bones are these stones my flesh the softness of birch in youth my breath the vapour of clouds my veins the strength of roots