Love Poem
by
Amethyst

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

 

*published in ILP anthology Nature's Echoes, Sept. 2000