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Image

Woodland


Woodland

A grove
the ground is soft pink
a fleshy clay
mauve in its intensity
Flowers abound
flowers o’keefe
A heady sweaty scent
musky thick
envelopes the air

My dark meadow can surround you
In and out of its path you may wander
exploring
Mountain
Temple of Venus
is in the horizon
Beyond
my oyster at the mouth of a river
Fold it open
and caress my living pearl
Let me take your hand
and point you in the right direction
Let me also taste the sap
trickling from the tree in your forest
and feel you grow
in my woodland

August 1993
Tressa Lee Breen

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