During the past couple of weeks I composed a 2 part series of poems looking at a Love both from the normal aspect of looking at this love and all that entails. Then the second part of looking from the other side, It was meant to look inwards at what that love was doing to the speaker. But I was disappointed at the second poem, from the time of posting this on blog my excitement was short lived, when I read the poem in the light of a new days and to be very one sided, one dimensional and singular at best. Simply put it failed in a massive way and this discouraged me in a major way.
But we move on, and for this post I had a different poem to the one I have here now. I had second thoughts and doubt as to abilities. Therefore I went back to the drawing board and wrote about where I am comfortable. I would make known that when I use the term The Weaver It could mean one of two things. If I use the Term “The Weaver” That could mean what we irish have called Mother Nature for generations and this I believe goes back to gaelic / celtic beliefs wowards Nature or The Earth. where ancient celts looked at Earth and all that comes from it as Female. Thus Mother Nature..
Or in The second meaning as a term for The Creator of all things both seen and unseen. Basically “The Weaver” = God OR “Mother Nature”. And my poetry will let it pretty much open for a reader to hold whatever belief they wish. In the poem below It does mention as displayed in the Title and “The Weaver” = Both God and Nature Or depending on your views entirely one. For me as given my Faith. It does mean God.
But one final point to make; I never preach to turn or force people one way or the other. Nor do I Write to force a reader into one thought. I believe folks have a view of their own of which they can make their own opinions.
There has been a little alteration in my poetry in the past number of weeks which I will let known in a seperate post in time when I can get about to composing that post. This introduction contains a number of issues that I felt the needs to get free of my mind, I am sorry for any confusion in this But on with the show!
Below is a poem like which I have composed on before. Of myself taking a walk and seeking solace. Please Read and enjoy this Poem. This one I do believe is a much higher standard than last week.
Where the Quiet Is Woven
One morning gold on paths I know,
To where the quiet old trees grow.
Away from noise, I walk and find,
This peaceful shelter for my mind.
Where life’s busy voices fade away,
A welcome wander from the fray,
I follow the winding silver stream,
Through woods, within a woven dream.
Here the weaver’s hand is near,
In bending branch and shifting air,
In silver thread of water’s flow,
And something felt, though never shown.
As wildlife walks ’neath this living green,
Untroubled still, yet rarely seen,
And solace found, a rest for souls,
Drawn by a work that makes me whole.
Sitting silent as water flows,
Where softened light through stillness glows,
My eyes closed gently to the gleam,
Yet something stirs beyond the stream.
Not sound, nor sight, nor shape to name,
But presence held within the same,
As though the hush itself could see,
And wove its quiet through me.
Where birds gather, carefree and bright,
And drink together in soft daylight,
As water stirs and seems to say,
The weaver knows—and shapes the day.
Copyright © 2026 Pat Fitzgerald
All Rights Reserved
A Note from The Author:
Thank you for joining me on this journey of writing and discovery. Poetry, for me, is a continuous learning process. A way of finding my own voice and writing style and exploring the beauty of words.
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Pat Fitzgerald
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