Love Poem
In the pool where twilight
washed her hands
a deer drinks her own image
the moon ripples
slow halos about her head
affirming she is sacred
velvet leaves of thimbleberry
whisper low as she passes
their fragile fruit an offering
behind the windfall her most
holy gift lies large-eyed, waiting
she nuzzles him to rise
watching her, mimicking each gesture
his clumsy, too-long legs transform
into dreams of white and gold walking
at the clearing she pauses to approve
the wind's new, age-old composition
artless, innocent
the earth a love poem written
especially for her each night
Copyright 2002 Amethyst
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