Between September and November – Eva Weggelaar

‘Hige sceal þē heardra, heorte þē cēnre,
mōd sceal þē māre, þē ure mægen lȳtlað –
to the North, she cast the strongest thread’

Paradise is this Way

Between September and November,
the harvest and the blood,
my life the Twelfth Night’s glowing ember
Between the blossom and the fruit time,
the eternal sowing of new seeds,
my words all quotes and turned to rhyme
Between the images and the silence,
the apples and the fall,
is that charm still only in my hands?
There are different cities I want to make real to you
that belong to the land and the hearth like the roots of that yew
are they all wrong, the things I think are true?

‘Hige sceal þē heardra, heorte þē cēnre,
mōd sceal þ
ē māre, þē ure mægen lȳtlað –
to the North, she cast the strongest thread’

©Eva Weggelaar
Art: Paul Ranson

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