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.