Blessed Lughnasadh
The Hills of the Heart
In the hollows of quiet places we may meet,
the quiet places where is neither moon nor sun,
but only the light of amer and pale gold
that comes from the Hills of the Heart.
There, listen at times,
there you will call,
and I hear.
There will I whisper,
and that whisper will come to you,
as dew is gathered into the grass,
at the rising of the moon.
Fiona MacLeod
Posted by Angela-Eloise at 10:23 AM
