If I am to be caught
May the silence
Enfold me
May she carry me off
May her green tendrils
Hold me
May I hide in the hush
Of a mist covered lake
Or the still of a morning
Reluctant to wake
Let the gloaming be worn
Like a gossamer shirt
I will breathe
In the space where the
Tide is inert
And there may I rest
Neither coming
Nor going
Let me hide in the silence
Of nobody knowing




Sara Mathews     February 2016