The Veil of Melangell

Walking up the slope from the river in the treeshade
I stopped as I saw her on the path
The hare stopped too.
Then loped silently over the bank into the field.
I walked on up the slope and through the gap
Looking up and down for the hare 
along the bank.
Then, on the other side of the field, I saw
Just her ears in the grass as she moved, 
But saw nothing when she was still.
She moved towards a hollow
Where the sheep had not cropped 
and the growth was tall.
She was hidden in the skirts of Melangell
And did not emerge in the stretch of time
that I lingered.

Our Lady of the Hares – Melangell –
Hid a hare from a hunter. I was not hunting
But saw in the being of the hare
Something I sought as if it were prey:
Mysterious, vibrant and alive with meaning
Hidden in the folds of Melangell’s skirts
So that she is the keeper of the veil
Cast over the pulse of life; the elusive,
Fleeting glimpse of the hare on the path.

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