The Stir Of The Slow Unfurling

“The Stir of The Slow Unfurling

I move quietly upon the land
until a shadow
or sudden shape
arrests me —
and then,
I wait
for the murmur
beneath the visible,
as light reveals
its secret language
in stones,
rivers,
trees.

Forms
and formlessness
unveil their hidden vows
to endure,
and when my heart attends,
transient gleams
of shifting light
move in unison
with the stir
of the slow unfurling.

There is music
in this tension —
darkness and blaze,
stillness and surge:
a melody
threaded through chaos,
a wisdom
that rides the thunderstorm
as she lashes the valley floor,
then leaves
a softened earth,
ready for the gentler hand
of summer light —
to stir the slow unfurling.

By Anna King.
First drafted October 2023; revised in July 2025.”

Rooted in my home landscape of Annaghdown, Co. Galway, this poem grew from moments of stillness and deep attention to the land, waiting for what lies beneath the visible to reveal itself. It reflects the quiet dialogue between form and formlessness, the way light moves across stones, rivers and trees, and how these fleeting patterns speak of endurance and transformation. From the violence of the storm to the gentleness of summer light, it traces the rhythm of emergence: the slow unfurling that underpins all life.