Work in process.

She took her dark woollen cloak from the hook behind the back door of the cottage, and swung it around her shoulders, pulling the hood up around her long, loose, hair and fastening the clasp at her neck, walked out of the cottage into the night.

She lifted her nose to the salty scent of the sea, as her eyes took in the vision of the shore line illuminated by the bright light of the full moon.

The wind gently removed the hood from her head and caressed her hair as gently as a lovers touch; with a shiver she turned, opened the little wooden gate and stepping through, lifting her long skirts, walked down the warn stone steps that lead from the cottage to the sandy beach beneath the rocky out crop the cottage was built upon.

Behind her, the gate closed, latching itself silently in the breeze.

She stood, her face lifted slightly, still as a wild thing, scenting the salty air before she took her first steps in the direction she chose.

The damp sand was cool under her bare feet as she steped along the shore towards the rolling waves of the Irish Sea; the salty air, filled her nostrils as she inhaled deeply.

Standing at the water’s edge, the sea lapping gently against her toes she crouched to urinate involuntary as the waves lapped higher up her feet. She sighed with release, the urge sated, and straightened from her haunches, her eyes upon the glowing orb of the full moon directly in front of her across the water of the sea.

The night called to her and she answered.

Under her breath she whisphered ancient words, the meaning of which were known to only her and her Gods. She glanced up to the heavens and the beauty of the stars stopped her in her tracks; she searched until her eyes saw constalations she knew and as if they were old friends, she greeted them with a broad smile as they filled her with mirth; she ran along the shore edge laughing into the darkness, lost in her own being, oblivious to reality, her dark robes writhing wildly about her.

Before she knew it, she had reached the rocky out crop at the west end of the long sandy beach; she slowly came to a stop, breathless and in wonder at the sight before her; in the moon light the rocks where hypnotic; dark sharp crevices; soft silvered promontories, caused her to stop and wonder at the forces that had created and formed these cliffs over the aeons.

Gathering her breath, still in awe, she walked around the rocky cliffs as they stretched southwards into the sea, the receding tide revealing the hidden secrets behind the crooks and nooks of the rocks, only accessible at the lowest of tides.

It was with caution, that she rounded this corner, aware and yet not aware of the wet sand under her bare feet. The cool salty wind blew her long hair over her face, as with her hand upon her heart, she approached the high cliffs; she felt like this was the first time she had been here, even though it was not, her heart in her mouth as she made her way towards the deep tall mouth of the cave.

She had been here as a girl, a mother and now as a crone; each time she felt the same reverence for the place; an awe that words could not convay nor explain. But tonight, there was something else, something she could not admitt to herself but could feel as if it were surrounding her with the damp tendrils… she shivered and glanced behind her, half expecting someone to be there watching her silently in the darkness.

©Cymraes 2010


More to come…


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