Redwood Grove...

Caught in the web of connections,
The fly in my own trap; I seek.
The maker and the make.

Light dusting of the yellow glitter.
As it falls from the ancient sways,
We’ve been led down the Path.

Slow turns and wise smiles,
Tasting of the cauldron; drops flick out.
Three burns as She whispers her Name.

Then off again, spiraling with the smoke.
Nothing but light as motes we be,
Wondering anew in the redwood grove.