time circled inside this oak
future in the smooth trust of acorns

land falling into lake
earth into water
water into earth
nature’s threads
certain and tenuous as breath

we are woven in
a part and yet apart

not knowing what may happen
when we break the line

This poem was printed onto cloth and placed against the screes, running from the Wasdale Oak to the shores of Wastwater, in May 2016. You can read more about that here.

The Wasdale Oak