(from "Grimspound II" —
Collagraph on paper by Anita Reynolds)

a granite saddle shown ocean blue
that we see through to the floor

and I shudder feeling brief as a thought
on a walk of a light year

each scar and scab is some memory
of muscle human or elemental

I imagine beetle tracks beneath bark
even the etch of the Grimslake

could be a runnel in wood
this trickle still nourishes the stone ring

that became Grimr's pound*
here an orange slick slapped on stillness

warmth of toil on a misted highland
a quiet labour during the bronze hush

between stone and iron ages when
they chewed at the landscape

piling a heavy harvest
at the speed of unfolding petals

to fashion a man-high circle
of tame intent

the very idea of it
a grounded raven's sky-wheel

nameless until half as many years
were heaped upon it as parts in its whole

*Grimr: an alternative name for Odin, the chief god in Norse paganism.