Breath

Raised a finger
To the wind
The direction
Of the draught.
So difficult to tell .

Clouds scud
Shadows slip
A moving patchwork
Over field and fell.
Along a lane
A chapel spire
Within a copse
Hidden from
The prying eye.
The praying heart
In spired
Within a well
Of silent aspiration.

The direction of the wind,
A wordless breath,
An offering set aside
To sanctify the soul.

JL Oct 26 13:35